


The Prince's Mistress

by sarai377



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 55,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4141215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarai377/pseuds/sarai377
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU – What if the only way for Robin to save Chrom’s life is to not marry him? </p><p>After Gangrel is vanquished, Chrom proposes to Robin, but she refuses his marriage proposal. Robin claims that she is already engaged to Lon’qu. But Robin is hiding the real reason she can’t and won’t marry him – she is certain that if she marries him, her recurring vision of killing him will come true. </p><p>Two years later, while they are planning for the Valmese invasion, Chrom makes an advance that Robin can’t refuse.</p><p>Loosely follows events from Chapter 11 onward. </p><p>Robin/Lon'qu, Robin/Chrom, slight Sumia/Chrom</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - No

Chrom kneels before her, the ring held up between them, and Robin stares into his eyes. She sees their future together: children, possibly; love, definitely. A future filled with promises and strengths, challenges and sacrifices. But the thing that makes her pause the longest is the vision of his death.

She shivers, and it’s not a happy shiver. She knows if she takes his ring, she will kill him, and the thought of losing him terrifies her. Gods know, she wants the ring and all it represents. She wants all of him. Imagining him with anyone else fills her with cold jealousy. 

And here he stands, offering his heart to her. She must crush it, so that she doesn't kill him later.

“I can’t do this, Chrom.” She reaches out with trembling fingers and slowly closes his hand around the ring. 

"I - I thought for sure you... loved me too." He stares at her, and she sees the pain she’s brought him. She stares it down, knowing she’s a terrible person for turning him down.

"I do," she whispers, and pulls him to her. He has no idea how much she loves him. His lips are soft and gentle, and then suddenly they aren't so gentle, he's crushing them against her and his hands are in her hair. She moans his name and then pushes him away. "We can't do this."

"Why not?" He leans down, those guileless blue eyes staring into her. "If you love me back, then what's the problem?"

She shakes her head, her white hair swinging in front of her face. "I'm engaged to Lon'qu." With trembling fingers she pulls the chain from her shirt, exposing the silver ring that Lon'qu gave her. "He proposed yesterday." 

He narrows his eyes. "Do you love him?" 

She pauses, and has to think about it. "Yes." It's not exactly a lie.

She can't give him the real reason that she can't marry him, because if she does, he'll come up with excuses, and it will convince her, and suddenly the air in her chest feels like ice and she's having trouble breathing. The walls are closing in and she's gasping for air. _A panic attack, right now?_ Part of her is angry with her body for betraying her in this fashion. She wraps her arms around her chest and tries to draw in enough air to fix the swirling in her head. 

Chrom has seen the attacks before, so he knows what to do. He doesn't touch her, doesn't do anything sudden. He speaks soothingly to her, and eventually she moves to him, and he holds her, gently, not confining. She wishes he would leave, abandon her - it would certainly make it easier. But he stays.

Her breathing steadies and she sighs, feeling the skin of his neck against her clammy forehead. Chrom and Lon'qu are the only people who have witnessed her panic attacks, but she still feels terrible that they know about her weakness. He whispers soothingly in her ear, and when she raises her head, he looks at her with so much sadness. 

"Robin, I love you." He shakes his head. "I don't want to get in the way of your happiness with Lon'qu, but I love you."

"I love you too." It claws its way out of her. She can't bear to see him so upset. She puts her hand on his cheek, tears in her eyes. It feels like she is stabbing herself in the heart with a glowing shaft of electricity. _Better me than him,_ she thinks. "But I can't... I can't marry you."

"Because of Lon'qu." 

She doesn't deny it. He stands, and kisses her forehead. His hands linger on hers, and his tears fall onto their touching hands.

And then he goes. 


	2. Two Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some graphic smut in this chapter - warning since I'm new to AO3 and don't want to surprise anyone in case I've got it mislabeled.
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think - good, bad, what your thoughts are going forward! Thank you to everyone who gave me Kudos or left Comments - it means a lot to see that others are enjoying this as much as I am.
> 
> Chapter 2 will be forthcoming in about a week. Thank you!

Chapter 1

_Two years later..._

 

Robin stands on her tip toes on the table, and reaches for the rolled up map on top of the bookcase.

“Ah, you’re back,” Lon’qu says behind her, and his voice startles her. “Don’t fall,” he admonishes as she sways, rushing forward and steadying her. He steps up on the table beside her, his bare feet touching the wood, and reaches for the map. He stands a few inches taller than her, and his arms are longer as well.

“Thanks,” she says, accepting the map.

“Why are you reaching for my old map of Chon’sin?” He comes off the table and offers her a hand down. She can still remember a time when he was afraid to even touch her.

“I was looking for a map of Valm, actually.” She hops off the table and spreads the map out before her. He holds one curling end and she studies it for a moment. “Yes, this will do.” She then rolls it back up.

Robin reaches up and runs her fingers through his dark spiked hair. She enjoys the texture of it against her sword- and magic-calloused fingers. “I missed you,” she says.

“And I missed you.” Lon’qu pulls her against him and presses his lips gently against hers. She leans into the familiar lines of his thin, muscular body, and returns the kiss. After a few moments, he pulls back and rests his forehead against hers. “Why are you looking for a map of Valm?”

She leans eyes him. “Because Valm is coming to war with Regna Ferox.”

He blanches, and sits down heavily. “So, that was the top-secret meeting you and Chrom attended in Ferox.”

“Yes. Basilio sends his regards, by the way.” Lon’qu had been Basilio’s right-hand man for a number of years before joining with the Ylisseans, but he opted not to go back this last time.

He nods. “When are the Valmese coming?”

“Soon.” Robin frowns. “You’ve heard that Walhart, who stylizes himself the Conqueror, has taken over all of Valm? Well, now he’s set his sights on Regna Ferox, and from there, the rest of the continent.”

He pulls her down to his lap, and she rests her head on his shoulder for a moment. “It sounds like war is coming,” he says.

Robin shivers. They both have reasons to fear war, but at the same time, she is looking forward to it. Peace has, in some ways, been more painful than fighting. At least when she is fighting, she knows where she stands.

He tucks her hair behind her ear and kisses her neck. She leans into his touch, welcoming it with caresses of her own.

Whenever he reaches for her, she feels a little bit unworthy of his affections. She pushes the emotion down and tries to remind herself that he knew how conflicted she was.

She recalls his proposal with clarity still, as if it happened yesterday, instead of two years ago.

 

" _It appears I've grown... quite... fond of you." Lon’qu shifted uncomfortably, then raised his head._

_"Oh..." she said, shocked. "It seems my plot to make you laugh had some... unforeseen consequences." What started as an attempt to help the shy, standoffish Feroxi get over his fear of women had turned into a sometimes awkward friendship. And now, it appeared to be changing again._

_"I must know," he continued, "Do you share my feelings? Even a little bit?"_

_"Well..." she said, and then smiled, "At first I couldn't stand you, but then..."_

_"Yes?" he prompted, breathless._

_"I've come to care for you too, Lon'qu. Deeply."_

_"Truly?" he asked, and came closer. She looked up at him, still smiling. She could be happy with Lon'qu. He was attentive and supportive, and he made her laugh. He was no Chrom, but she couldn't marry Chrom anyway._

_“Yes.” She leaned forward and kissed him, and he put his hands gently on her waist._

_Eventually, after he presented the ring, he asked her the serious question that had been on both of their minds._

_"But... what of Chrom?"_

_Her smile faded. "I..."_

_"I see how you look at him, how he turns to you for comfort." He frowned. "I don't want to be in the way of that."_

_"If I marry him, I will kill him," she said. "I cannot marry him, so there's no point in trying to start a relationship with him."_

_"You know that for sure... from your visions?"_

_She nodded._

_“Do you love me?” he asked, gripping her hand._

_“Yes."_

_He smiled, and it made her heart glad._

 

That smile haunts her now, as Lon’qu whispers her name. She meets his eyes.

“I’m afraid of you going to back to war, across the ocean.” He buries his face in her neck and wraps his arms around her. He has always been afraid of not being strong enough to protect her. But, for good or bad, the peace they’ve enjoyed for the past two years is coming to an end.

“You’ll be there with me, if we do. We’re soldiers, Lon’qu. I can’t guarantee we will live, but we’re both strong. You know I’m going to do everything I can to keep us all safe.”

“Good,” he says, and looks up at her. He forces a smile, and it is almost natural enough.

“I…have to go. I’m setting up a prep room in the castle. I’ll be staying there for a while.”

His eyes sharpen. “You will be spending a lot of time with Chrom.”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause, as all the things they should say go unsaid. He knows better than to extract a promise from her, and she knows better than to expect him to be all right with it.

“I love you,” he says gruffly.

“And I love you,” she says, and means it.

~*~

Chrom’s lofty sigh draws her attention from the map like no other sound can. Robin looks up, noting the marks gone from the time candle – it is very late – and Chrom’s not-so-intent stare as he studies the new formations dancing across the map beneath her fingertips.

She knows that sigh well.

“What’s the matter?” she asks.

“All this… is it just an exercise in futility?” he gestures to the maps, spread out on nearly every available surface. He sets his quill down on the paper, his large, legible script filling most of the page. “We’ve been doing _this_ every night for the past six days. We have no ships, barely any men, and they are a vastly superior force, from Virion’s account.”

She’s been doing “this” constantly for the past six days, but she doesn’t point that out. Chrom has other duties to handle besides this war planning, whereas Robin has only the Shepherds to manage. She’s called them all back in anticipation for whatever will come next.

She stretches tired, hunched shoulders, and rises from her stool, going to the corner table where a large pitcher of water was placed. It is empty, and she tsks with her tongue.

“It is not futile,” she tells him. “I see a plan, a way through all of this… it’s just - beyond my fingertips still.” She wiggles her hands for a moment, and then turns back to the table. The wine bottle is half-full and stoppered still, sitting on the second shelf. She’s found that a little wine at the end of her night helps her sleep. She’s tired enough that she doesn’t want to go hunt down more fresh water.

“Do you want some wine? Chrom?” She peers over her shoulder at him when he doesn’t respond.

His eyes are not on her face. She blushes, belatedly remembering that she is wearing a skirt, and that her cloak is draped across the bed she has set up in the corner of her room. Her recent promotion to Grandmaster Tactician, in preparation for the invasion, came with new attire that she isn’t quite comfortable in. She makes a mental note to find her old uniform pants.

She stands upright and turns to face him, holding the bottle in one hand and the glasses in the other. His eyes dart up to hers, and he blushes slightly, realizing he’s been caught in the act.

Robin is secretly pleased that he was looking, but she does her best to ignore the quickening of her heartbeat.

“Yes, please,” he says, and she busies herself with pouring into the glasses. His fingers, free from his gloves, brush hers as he holds the glasses. She puts the bottle on the table at the corner of her map, making sure not to flash him again.

She sits back down on her stool beside Chrom, and puts her chin in her hand. Of all the paths she has seen, there is one that stands out the clearest. But Chrom will not like it.

“I think we need to ask for assistance from Plegia,” she tells him after a moment’s glance across the map.

He nearly spits out his wine, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes flash angrily. “You can’t be serious!”

She sighs and tilts back the glass of wine, emptying it in two gulps. This is not going to be easy.

“You just said yourself we don’t have the men or the boats to win such a nautical battle.” She points to the map. “Plegia has boats and, if Flavia is to be believed, they also have lots of funds to equip an army. They could win this war for us.”

“Emmeryn died because they hate Ylisse,” Chrom replies. “Why would they help us?”

She taps her finger against the Western side of Plegia, which borders the sea. “If the Valmese land in Ferox, Plegia is next, before Ylisse.”

Chrom frowns for a moment and takes a sip. “Yes, I see what you’re saying. But Plegia…” His hand is tightly clenched on his knee as he bounces it up and down. She presses her hand against his knuckles, and he relaxes them.

It feels so good to touch him. Before their hurried journey to Ferox, they had been apart more often than not. Robin had managed the Shepherds’ patrols throughout Ylisse, and Chrom had a kingdom to run. She removes her hand from his skin before she lets it travel up his arm, and goes to refill her glass.

He belongs to Sumia, she reminds herself sternly.

His eyes are narrowed as he watches her take a healthy sip of the fermented juice. “Do you always drink so much?”

She eyes him, feeling self-conscious.

“It helps me sleep,” she says lamely. “My mind is always racing, otherwise.” It’s not exactly a lie.

She dreams about Chrom often, about the future they should have had. The wine makes those dreams go away.

He rises and takes the glass from her hands. “If we’re going to do this, to go across the sea and fight the Valmese, you and I both need to be fit and healthy.” He sets the glass down behind her on the table, and the bare skin of his arm brushes against her bare shoulder. She smells him, that heady mix of sweat and the faint cologne he started wearing shortly after Emmeryn’s death.

“It’s just a little wine,” she says, and he grips her hands. She’s aware of his height and his toned arms in that instant, and her breath catches.

“I think you’re running from something, Robin. Something is making you unhappy, and I have a suspicion I know what it is.” He rubs her hands gently, twisting her wedding band on her finger.

“I’m not unhappy,” she whispers, and it rings out strangely in her head.

It is a lie. She is unhappy.

Robin closes her eyes, and clings to the fact that she did it to keep him alive. She didn’t marry him, and the visions of his death stopped.

“Let me make you happy, Robin.” His lips brush hers, and her eyes fly open. That first kiss is chaste, and she squeezes his hands, certain if he lets go she will collapse to the ground.

He pulls back and looks at her, his blue eyes intense. One of his hands slithers up her arm, twining in her hair at the back of her neck, and then he kisses her, deeper this time.

He tastes exactly as he did last time, two years ago. She lets out an involuntary moan of longing against his mouth, and runs her hands up his chest. The shirt is silky against his corded muscles.

He releases her mouth and kisses her jaw, his mouth slowly fluttering down her neck to her collarbone. She is held nearly paralyzed between his mouth and his hands, and her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks.

“Oh Chrom,” she sighs, and she runs her fingers against his hair. How she has longed to feel that silky hair beneath her fingertips, so different from Lon’qu’s…

That thought races through her like a lightning bolt, and she says his name again, in a serious tone. “Chrom.”

He looks up, and pulls back. “Robin?”

“We shouldn’t do this,” she says breathlessly. “This is wrong. We’re both married…” she trails off at the look in his eyes, part desire, part pent-up frustration, and she can’t continue.

Emotions run through her, swirling around until she’s not certain what she’s feeling more: guilt or desire. She feels like her soul is stretched, frozen, between Chrom and Lon’qu. She can’t move forward, and she can’t take that step back.

He’s still holding her hair and his other hand is at her side, steadying her.

“I have tried to forget you for two years,” he says, and there’s something new in his eyes that steadies her. “I have been a kind, loving husband and a good father to Lucina. I love Sumia. But… I am in love with you.”

Those words resonate with the words in her own mind, words that she has held back for two years. “I’ve tried to forget you, too,” she whispers. “But I can’t. Chrom…”

She takes his face in her hands and presses her mouth to his. She knows it’s wrong. But she denied him once, two years ago, and she doesn’t have it in her to deny him again.

Robin melts into him. His touch ignites a part of her that has been dormant for a long time. By the quiet little gasps and sighs he makes, she knows that it’s the same for him.

They slowly explore each other’s bodies. His hands are everywhere, reaching up beneath her sleeveless shirt and bra to caress her nipples, raising her skirt to cup her bottom, raking hot trails down the skin of her stomach. She too claims every inch of his warm skin, and as she runs her fingers beneath the waistband of his pants, he moans and his knees buckle.

He lifts her skirt, turns aside her smallclothes, and works a finger inside of her, still standing. It is only his other arm wrapped around her waist that keeps her from falling to the floor as her knees give out. She is panting and moaning on the end of his fingers as he caresses between her legs. When he stops, she looks up at him through heavy eyes, her hand touching his face in disbelief. He smiles, and she returns it.

He picks her up and lays her gently on the bed, the one flat surface she hasn’t filled with maps and notes. She helps him loose his erection from his pants, and gives a little sigh as it springs free.

With trembling fingers, she wraps her hand around it, feeling its velvety warmth.

“Robin,” he breathes. “Gods, yes.”

She carefully guides him to the warm, excited center between her legs.

He pauses, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I have never wanted anything so badly in my life,” she whispers, looking up at him.

“Hnngh,” he groans, closing his eyes. “You make it so difficult, saying things like that.”

“Then I’ll stop talking,” she whispers, and sits up a bit to kiss his neck. His voicebox bobs up and down beneath her mouth.

After a few moments, he presses her back down against the bed and clamps his hand against her mouth. She’s confused for a moment, and brings her hand up to grip his wrist. Then he sheaths himself in her in one smooth thrust. She arches against him and cries out, her voice muffled by his hand. The feel of him inside of her, fitting together like perfectly matched puzzle pieces, makes her fingers flutter against his shoulder and wrist.

He pauses a moment, and then starts to thrust in and out. She stares at his body rhythmically moving above hers, and then wraps her legs around him. She feels like he’s touching her soul, tugging on the strings that connect them together. She’s never felt anything like this before.

It feels like coming home, and Robin loses herself in the sensations. The orgasm rises like a tide within her, and she grabs her pillow and presses it against her mouth to keep from awakening the whole palace with her voice. When she finally looks up at Chrom again, he smiles, for he knows exactly what he’s doing to her.

His rhythm intensifies, and he presses close against her. He grips her hand, twining their fingers together as he lays gentle kisses on her neck, at odds with his forceful thrusting.

Chrom plunges into her one last time. He shudders, wrapping his arms beneath her. She touches his hair as he breathes against her neck.

After a few moments, he sits up, and smiles down at her. She returns the smile without thinking, running her fingertips along his cheek as if checking to see if this is real. He ducks and kisses her palm.

“I told you I could make you happy,” he says, and nuzzles into her neck.

Robin knows he’s right. Being with him is what makes her happy.

But it also makes her sad. 


	3. Guilt

Chapter 2 - Guilt

Robin looks down at Chrom's naked, sleeping body in the morning light, feeling like she is stuck in a strange dream. He lies on his stomach in the bed, his head turned toward her, one hand flung against her leg.

The long hours they spent together over the nearly three years she's known him, on the road and during battle, have made his face and expressions so familiar to her. But she has rarely seen him asleep. He looks calm and peaceful.

_This… was a mistake,_ she thinks bitterly to herself. A wonderful mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.

She runs her hand down his shoulder, needing to touch him, to remind herself this is real. He turns to her, opens blue eyes, and surprise registers on his face for a moment. Then he takes in her nakedness beside him, and that look changes. He was expecting Sumia, she knows, and that thought makes her heart clench.  _He's married to Sumia_ , she reminds herself sternly, but when he pulls her down to him for a kiss, she doesn't resist. 

She had the strength to resist him once, and only once, two years ago. But it had been the time that counted. Their lives could have been very different, now. 

Chrom rests his head against her chest, snuggling up to her. The warmth of his body is soothing, and she runs her hand across his forehead, brushing her fingers through his soft hair.

"You should go," she whispers. "Lon'qu will be by to check on me soon." 

He looks up at her, and the hurt is hovering in his eyes. "Sumia will be looking for me, I'm sure. But Robin... can we do this again?" 

"Maybe." She hesitates, knowing that he has a responsibility to everyone else. It's incredibly selfish, what she's doing, to everyone. But especially to Chrom. 

_He offered it to me,_ she reminds herself. _He made the first move._ But she can’t put all the blame on him. She had wanted it too.

She hadn't expected the draw of those sweet lips, the scent of him, the feel of his hands claiming her body in ways Lon'qu never would...

Still, Robin feels responsible for allowing it. She should have said no, turned him away. But she didn't. 

She closes her eyes against the pain of that guilt. _Haven't I sacrificed enough?_ She doesn't want to turn him down again.

Chrom sits up, and leans over her. There is a predatory, hurt look in his eyes, and she knows she put it there two years ago when she turned him down. "Maybe?" he echoes.

"Of course we can," she whispers, running her hands over his shapely chest muscles. "I still love you."

He touches her face. "Good." 

She looks up at him. "Lon'qu will not be pleased if he comes upon us together. I don't want to hurt him, any more than necessary." 

Chrom frowns. "You’re not going to tell him, are you?" 

She pauses, thinking about it. “No, I don’t—”

There is a quick knock on the door, and then it swings open. “Robin! Have you seen Chrom?”

“No, wait—” Chrom calls, but it’s too late.

“Ah.” Frederick stares at them for a moment, already stepping through the door, and Robin doesn’t even think to cover her nakedness. She and Chrom are in a compromising position, his hips cradled between her legs. There is nothing that she can do or say that will convince Frederick that they were not having sex, or on their way to it.

She stares back at Frederick, seeing the momentary confusion on the knight’s face change into shock and then anger. He shuts the door quickly behind him, and looks down pointedly.

The condemnation on Frederick’s face for that quick moment before he looks away is burned into her mind, slowing her thoughts, making her body tremble. He has seen them in the midst of a secret tryst, and she’s had no time yet to process how to present their relationship to the outside world. She had hoped to keep it a secret, and now before she could even make that choice, it is snatched away from her.

She covers her face with her hands, and wishes she could sink into the mattress and hide.

“My apologies,” Frederick breathes, “but there is urgent news from Ferox.”

News from Ferox - the impending Valmese invasion. Something that Robin can handle. Her brain snaps back into place.

Chrom rises, and she reaches for her cloak, then wraps it tight around her body. The stone floor is cold against her bare feet, and she winces. Chrom hurriedly pulls on his pants. His eyes shift between her and Frederick. She can tell he wants to say something to her, but he holds back.

“What news?” Chrom asks of the waiting Knight, and Frederick looks up quickly. Seeing them clothed, if not appropriately – Chrom is only wearing pants and Robin is clutching her cloak around her – relaxes him somewhat.

“Valm has sent out three sentry ships, which will land in Port Ferox in four days. Flavia has sent her fastest Pegasus Knight to request our assistance.”

“Port Ferox,” Robin breathes, turning to the map. Her eyes fly over the paths, and her stomach sinks. “There’s no way our army will make it there in time.”

“There are only three ships, but they are heavily laden with armored and mounted units. The Feroxi emissary said there are over six hundred Valmese approaching.”

She blanches. “What of the Feroxi army?”

Frederick shakes his head. “Less than four hundred soldiers are mobilized right now.”

She stares down at the map, seeing the Valmese plan taking action without moving any of the pieces around. The Ylissean army will not be mobilized in time. But she has called back the Shepherds… it may be possible to get the smaller group, which had spent months training together and travelling with efficiency, there in time to bolster the Feroxi troops.

She comes to her decision quickly.

“My recommendation is to get the Shepherds on the move by nightfall,” she says, raising her head to look at Chrom and Frederick.

“What of the army?” Frederick asks.

“They will have to follow more slowly. There’s no way they will be ready to meet this first invasion.” She turns back to the map. “We may leave straight from the Port, if we can get enough ships and people from Plegia.”

Chrom frowns, but agrees. “I trust your guidance, Robin. We will not let Ferox fall.”

“Plegia?” Frederick stands beside her and eyes the board. “Are we asking for assistance from Plegia?”

Robin nods. “We decided last night. Much as I don’t want to, I feel we have no choice. They have an interest in this too, since Walhart has declared for the whole continent.”

“I see,” Frederick says. “Let us hope the interactions are better than they were the last time.”

“We won’t be caught off guard by Plegia’s treachery again.” A muscle in Chrom’s jaw tenses.

“I’ll go speak with the Shepherds,” Robin volunteers, bringing them gently back to the current situation. Time is of the essence now. “I called them back when we returned from Regna Ferox, so they should be semi-prepared for a quick move. Frederick, please alert General Cristoff that the army should move for Ferox within three days, or sooner. Let him know I’ll speak with him before we leave this afternoon.”

He bows his head.

“I’ll need to speak with my Councilors,” Chrom says. “Frederick, can you organize them to meet in an hour’s time? We may be gone for a while if we go across the sea. I’ll want to make sure everything is in order for an extended absence.”

“I will set up the meeting.” Frederick clears his throat. “I – It is not my place, milord, but I don’t think _this_ is wise.” He gestures between Robin and Chrom. “What you are doing here could have serious repercussions on the Shepherds, especially if we are going to war.”

Robin winces at his cool tone. He is right. This is the worst possible time to start something like this, and on the road there will be minimal privacy. Her cheeks burn. What had she been thinking?

“You’re right, Frederick. It is not your place,” Chrom says calmly, and puts his arm deliberately around her hunched shoulders. She looks up at him, but he is focused steadily on Frederick.

The Knight pauses, and then bows his head to Chrom. “I will keep this a secret until you inform me otherwise.”

“Good.”

“Thank you,” Robin says, her voice small.

“I’m not doing it for you,” Frederick replies with a disdainful flick of his eyes, and then turns on his heel and leaves.

His words hurt. She sighs and leans against Chrom, a hand to her now-aching head.

“Robin, it’s all right,” Chrom says. “Frederick will not reveal our secret.”

“I know.” She shakes herself. Now is not the time for self-recrimination or guilt. She raises her head and somehow puts a smile on her face. “I’ll be fine. Go ahead, get your Councilors up to speed.”

To her surprise, he buys into the smile. “Okay.” His eyes are filled with some regret. Their idyllic night has ended, but Chrom leans forward and kisses her forehead.

“For now, we’ll act as we had before,” Robin tells him, and he nods. “We have to set this aside for preparations.”

“You sound so… practical.” He smiles to take any edge out of his words.

On an impulse, she stands up on her toes, and kisses him, a soft brush of their lips.

They get dressed, and he leaves. Robin sits on the stool for an instant and covers her face with her hands. If the Shepherds find out she and Chrom were doing this, it could have dire consequences. They could shun her, and stop listening to her plans. She needs to be there, to protect all of them as much as she can.

She must be extra cautious from now on.

She sighs, then reaches for one of her notebooks and heads down to the Shepherds’ barracks.

~*~

Chrom pauses and sticks the end of his quill in his mouth, reading over the list. _That should be everything I need to address with my Councilors before we leave for Regna Ferox._ He doesn’t think he and his army will be returning anytime soon, especially if they are able to obtain support from Plegia. It may be easiest to launch from Port Ferox, as soon as possible.

He sets the quill down as he remembers that look in Robin’s eye, last night. Her eyes had nearly glowed with pleasure, and he felt a thrill that _he_ had been the one to cause it.

He makes a silent promise that he will not screw this up, this time.

He knows he strained their relationship by proposing, but she had stretchedit further by rejecting his proposal as she did. Those first few months after that fiasco, they had barely spoken at all. Chrom thought for certain their close friendship would break under the weight, but it bent and lessened instead. He had been angry with her – if she loved him as she said she did, then why wouldn’t she just marry him? The excuse she had given him hadn’t seemed right, especially since he knew her initial, unfettered response was excitement.

He had observed her and Lon’qu together more than he wanted to admit: sneaking glances at them across the hall during meals, watching from the window as they sparred in the Shepherd’s field, and once catching them kissing in the stables.

They had seemed happy, but as the months wore on, he noticed a growing sadness surrounding Robin, and it seemed as if Chrom’s presence made it worse. She never sent him away or stopped speaking with him, though, and eventually they fell into their new roles, he as ruler and she as the leader of his Shepherds.

There is a knock at the door. Was Frederick back already?

“Enter.” He looks up, but it is not the knight. “Sumia,” he greets with a smile.

Not for the first time since he married her, he feels a pang of guilt. It is made worse this time by the feel of Robin still left on his skin. He didn’t have time to wash or change, so he is still wearing the same rumpled clothing from yesterday. He steels himself as he shuffles the paperwork around on his desk.

“Late night?” Sumia asks, as she steps inside and closes the door behind her. She is visibly pregnant with his second child. He hopes it is a boy, but Lucina is such a joy that he will be happy either way.

“Yes, but we are set for the most likely scenarios now.” Chrom goes to Sumia and kisses her lightly on the cheek.

He smiles tenderly as one-year-old Lucina giggles from her mother’s arms and reaches for him. She stares at him with blue eyes identical to his own in coloration. The only difference between them is the brand of the exalt nestled within Lucina’s left eye. Sumia rests her head on his shoulder as he admires the child they created.

"I heard there is news from Ferox?" she asks after a minute.

"Yes, there is." He sighs, and outlines what he knows. She grows pale.“I'd stay with you if I could, Sumia, but we owe Regna Ferox a great debt.”

"I'm not asking you to stay here with me. I want to go with you."

He grimaces. "You are with child, Sumia… I don’t think you should come with us."

"You're leaving me here? Chrom," she says angrily, and her tone stings. She steps back, her spine set for a fight. Her reaction surprises him, but he understands her frustration.

"Sumia," he says her name in the same tone. "I'm afraid to lose you. Lissa and I grew up without our parents. I don't want to risk that happening to Lucina." He touches the baby's pudgy hand, and she grips back. "And I don't know how long we'll be gone. I won't have you giving birth on the road in Valm."

"Are you really going, then? Across the sea?"

"If Robin can obtain boats, then yes." He reaches out to touch her crossed arms. “I need someone here I can trust, to manage my Councilors while I’m gone. You’ve done a fine job with them so far, and they listen to you.” It is true – Sumia is much better than he is at organizing the Councilors, with her seemingly endless patience and sweet personality.

She sighs, tears in her eyes, and her anger fades. “I’m so afraid of losing you,” she whispers, leaning against him. “Lucina needs her father, as well.”

“I’ll return, don’t you worry,” he promises. “Frederick and Robin will make sure of it.”

“They’d better,” she says, and raises her head. She kisses him sweetly, still in love with him, and another pang of guilt strikes him in the chest. He brushes his mouth against hers, recalling the feel of Robin’s lips instead.

It is Robin he thinks of when he pulls Sumia into his arms and holds her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter will be a battle in Port Ferox, and more Robin/Lon'qu angst. Just because I've left Sumia home for now does not mean she will be out of the picture forever. 
> 
> Please let me know if you have any comments or questions, and thank you for reading!


	4. Invasion

Chapter 3 - Invasion

Robin stands on the dock and eyes the chilly water several yards away. She is glad that she kept her pants from her old outfits, for it would be very cold in that little skirt here in Ferox. She idly wonders how Cherche and Cordelia manage the cold wind on their winged mounts, for they are attired in skirts as well. She never hears them complain about it.

Behind her, Lon’qu is needlessly sharpening his Killing Edge, the whetstone hissing as it passes across the blade. The arrows in his quiver at his back shift back and forth as he moves. They are surrounded by the sounds of wood creaking, water splashing against hulls and sails flapping in the wind. Instead of sailors and quartermasters, there are soldiers gathered behind them and to her right, down the docks.

The Valmese ships dwarf the Feroxi vessels in the harbor. Two of the warships have already anchored and expelled their living cargo. The vessels float maybe two hundred yards from her, at the end of the thick planks. The Valmese soldiers have already taken the side of the Port closest to their docked ships. She watches the invaders from her secluded spot with an eyeglass. They are moving the stalls and freight boxes into strange positions, and she assumes they are creating barricades they can use to their advantage.

Robin had hoped that the Ylisseans would reach the Port in time, but upon arrival less than an hour ago, she learned they were too late. They now have a simple but strong plan to oust the intruders from their fortified position. Most of the Shepherds and the bulk of the Feroxi army are waiting for her command to attack.

She takes a few steps out onto the dock, peering across at the third ship, which waits with triangular sails half-hoisted. She spots one Valmese archer aboard peering at her along a sharp arrow, but knows she is much too far away for his arrow to have a chance of striking her. The bay is deep on this side, so the Valmese warship can glide through the water and tie to the dock nearby. She is keeping a reserve of soldiers back here to forestall that happening.

“Stay close,” Lon’qu says, and reaches out for her waist, drawing her back to him. “I know you’re not a strong swimmer, and that water is icy. I’m not going to be happy if you make me take a dip.” He smiles to take the bite out of his words, and she knows he’s joking. Lon’qu would jump into an active volcano to save her life, and she used to think she would do the same for him.

“I’ll stay far away from the edge,” she promises.

_I do love him_ , she thinks to herself, as he returns to his nervous sharpening. The days of travel spent with him have made her doubt her decision even more. She loves Chrom, but there is something to the comfort and support that Lon’qu offers her. She can’t just throw that away. Robin is relieved that she and Chrom did not have time to continue their activities on the hard journey.

Her hands are shaking from not enough sleep, and, if she’s being honest with herself, from alcohol withdrawals. At Chrom’s request, she stopped all indulging, and is surprised by how much her body had grown used to the daily liquor. She’s been waspish and tense the whole trip up here, and it hasn’t been helped by Frederick’s comments and looks as they coordinate the journey. She put Frederick near Chrom, and far away from the front lines for this battle, just so she doesn’t have to bear his condemning glare.

Her eyes scan across the waiting soldiers and she spots Chrom by his blue hair. She can’t seem to keep herself from looking for him. As if sensing her attention, he turns toward her, and she thinks he smiles. She can’t return it, and after a moment looks down, back to the chill water.

“Robin? Are you all right?” Lon’qu sheathes his sword and comes over to her.

“I’m nervous about this battle,” she admits, and he grips her shoulder.

“Should we be nervous?”

She closes her eyes. “I planned for every known reaction, but the Valmese… I’ve never fought them before, or seen their tactics in any books. They’ve come across the sea twice in the whole of our history as neighbors, and both times were settled without a battle.” She looks at his serious face, and forces a confident smile. She is mindful of the soldiers looking to her for guidance. “I’m sure it will be fine, I just can’t help but worry.”

“It _will_ be fine. You’re great at this, and as soon as our armies meet you will get caught up in the movements.” He pulls her to him, pressing his chest against her back, and she breathes in slowly. His breath is soothing against her neck. “You will start seeing the future and then everything will work out all right.”

Robin nods. She can lose herself in the battle, and her foresight will come out, letting her predict the other army’s movements before they happen. It’s an odd talent but it’s never steered her wrong. Her mind strays back to Chrom. The visions of his death stopped about two years ago, after she turned him down. She trusts her strange psychic ability, and with it, she should be able to defeat these Valmese.

Lon’qu releases her as a Feroxi soldier rushes up the dock to their position. “Khan Flavia reports that the Valmese appear to be waiting for us, over in Port South.” Robin peers to her left, and spots the tall, bald Basilio first. She knows Flavia will be beside him.

The map appears in her mind, every detail in place. She looks at the soldier and nods.

“Let Khan Flavia and Basilio know we march on my mark. They should attack left side first, as we prepped, and then the right once these Valmese have responded.” The soldier hurries back to his leaders, and Robin waits for their acknowledgement.

She looks at Lon’qu. He’s smiling grimly, and she feels an answering smile grow on her own face.

It has begun.

~*~

The battle is going mostly as she planned, but somehow her group of Shepherds has taken the front position. The Feroxi soldiers fight mostly with axes, and the Valmese swordsmen are using their tactical advantage against the Feroxi. The defense has fallen largely to the Shepherds, who fight with a variety of weapons.

She and Lon’qu are perfectly aligned, with him guarding her back as she directs the Shepherds around her. He is using his Blessed bow and arrows to keep most of the cavalry away from them, although sometimes he pulls out his blades. She keeps an eye on the troops beside and behind her, sending runners to direct moves and counter-moves.

Robin has missed this. As terrifying as it is to imagine that Lon’qu or Chrom, or any of the other Shepherds, could be injured or killed, there is also an anticipatory excitement. She feels alive and in her element. There is no second-guessing, no doubt. She has to focus all her attention on the battlefield, and on ensuring that all her charges are safe and uninjured.

She can’t protect everyone from every blow, but she tries to. The Shepherds are not as sharp as they used to be, despite the rigorous training program that she implemented six months ago.  Lissa is riding on the back of Maribelle’s horse, and though both young women can use tomes, today they are armed with healing staffs.

Her foresight warns her of a throwing spear coming in toward Lon’qu, and she sets it aflame with a word of magic. It flutters to ash at their feet. Everything is moving in order, and she watches as the nearby knights are taken down by her versatile mounted units, Sully and Stahl. Cordelia comes blazing in on her dark pegasus, Arcfire flames dancing around the heavily armored soldiers and highlighting her red hair.

The Feroxi are arrayed behind the Shepherds, and every so often a Valmese soldier breaks through the line and is quickly dispatched by the waiting Feroxi.

“Robin, look,” Lon’qu hisses, and gestures with his chin. She sees the Captain of the closest Valmese vessel standing alone at the railing, looking down at his soldiers. Her husband grips his longbow and there is a fire in his eyes. He is well and truly roused. Perhaps it is seeing the Feroxi being attacked that has made him so – after all, Lon’qu had been the Khan’s right-hand man for a number of years before being sent with Chrom as a strange gesture of alliance between the two countries. Lon’qu nods, eyes intent on his target. “We can take him.”

Robin eyes the men fighting her Shepherds to the left. Lon’qu means to sneak around the line and take the Captain out, assassin-style. She opens her mouth to protest, but he dashes forward behind a row of boxes.

“Lon’qu!” She grits her teeth, but has to follow him. She can’t let him go off into the battle by himself, as lethal as his attacks might be. She catches his arm as he pauses. “This is a bad idea.”

“There’s no one else around him. It’ll be an easy kill. Come on, Robin.” He heads up the side of the dock.

She is stunned for a moment. He usually listens to her during battle. Maybe he’s just so caught up in trying to defend Ferox. It is a calculated risk, but one that Lon’qu is confident they can beat. If they can bring the Captain down stealthily, the invaders may devolve into chaos. She puts her trust in her husband and follows, watching around them for hidden enemies.

Lon’qu pauses behind a box several paces from the boat, and motions her down behind him. She crouches next to him, holding her breath as she looks at the edge of the dock. There is no railing beside her, just open water.

Lon’qu stands up tall and steps out several paces from cover, the bow stretched in his hand.

He snarls, “How well will you die!”

The arrow launches from the taut bowstring and strikes the Captain in the shoulder. Robin calls down a lightning bolt on him for good measure, but she can’t tell from this distance if it hit the man or missed.

She intuitively senses danger from her left and peers over the crate. “Lon’qu!” she hisses, and prepares another lightning bolt. There are three spearmen running toward them, breaking from the pack. One of them pauses and takes aim at Lon’qu, spear glinting in the cold.

He’s too slow, bringing the bow around to try and block the spear.

“Back off!” She leaps toward Lon’qu and blocks the spear with her blade.

Robin moves to block the second enemy’s spear, but doesn’t see the third projectile until it’s too late. The spear buries itself in her side, and she cries out. The force of it throws her backward, off-balance. The sharp edges of the spearhead spread agony up and down her side.

“Robin, no!” Lon’qu reaches for her, his eyes wide, but he’s too far away from her hand. He grips the spear instead, trying to slow her backward fall. The spear releases from her body with a tug. She screams as she pitches off the dock and into the icy water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter should be out in a few days. For those of you hoping for more explicit content, you'll be pleased with the next chapter (I hope!). 
> 
> One thing to note - I've always thought that part of Robin being a good tactician is an ability to foresee the immediate future. It doesn't work all the time, but she does get glimpses, especially during battle. She also gets visions through dreams and they give her headaches. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 4: Warmth

Chapter 4 - Warmth 

When the battle is done, Chrom and Frederick walk across the Port to meet with Flavia and Basilio near the smaller of the two captured warships.

Chrom passes several groups of good-spirited Shepherds along the way. As usual, Robin’s tactics have saved the majority of the Shepherds from all but minor hurts.

Many of the Shepherds seem excited to be back at war, although if questioned aloud they probably wouldn’t admit it. Chrom realizes that he feels the same thing. He enjoys the thrill of battle, the split-second decisions and the lethal dance.

_Am I too much like my father?_ He wonders painfully. War gets people killed or maimed, and even if they return physically sound, the emotional wounds never go away. He doubts for a moment, wondering if perhaps he should have kept his soldiers home, but then remembers that the Valmese would not stop in Ferox. No, he is not dragging his country into an unnecessary war over religious beliefs, as his father did. What warmongering that does run in his veins is tempered by his council, his wife, and Robin.

He has a feeling that Robin would understand the conflicted things he feels about returning to war. Speaking of Robin… he looks around for her.

She usually shows up at the end of the battle, their next moves already finalized in her head. But it has been a long time since they’ve been in such a battle. Has she forgotten… or has she been injured?

After five minutes of discussion with the Feroxi leaders, Robin still hasn’t shown up, and a chilly fear sinks into his stomach. He peers around for that distinctive white hair, but doesn’t see her standing nearby. She was in charge of this group to attack the first ship, so she should be here.

“Where is that tactician of yours, and her husband?” Basilio asks, his booming voice echoing Chrom’s thoughts. “I want to congratulate her on a well-played strategy!”

“Do you see her?” Chrom asks Frederick, nervously. The knight gets up on the large shipping crates behind them, and looks around the port-turned-battlefield for a few seconds. He pauses, looking toward the right side of the dock in front of the largest Valmese craft, and frowns. He comes down quickly as Flavia and Basilio look on with concern.

Frederick looks at Chrom, who braces himself at the concern on his knight’s face. “It looks like she was injured. She’s over there, with Lon’qu.” He gestures toward the corner of the wharf.

_Injured._ The word stabs Chrom like a physical blade. “I have to make certain everything’s all right,” he says hurriedly, and jogs across the harbor.

Frederick calls out to him with a terse, “Milord!” but Chrom ignores it. Every beat of his heart is calling her name, and he barrels by Gaius and Cordelia with no more than a hurried greeting. They pick up on his fear, but he ignores their confused questions.

Chrom rounds a row of boxes near the water, and spots her white hair first. She’s wearing Lon’qu’s jacket instead of her purple cloak, and is slumped back against the crates. Her husband hovers beside her, glaring around, and if he is cold without his jacket, Chrom cannot immediately tell. Water drips from the pair still, and there is a swath of partially-iced water leading from the dock twenty feet away to where Lon’qu and Robin wait. As Chrom approaches, he sees her eyes are closed, but her breath puffs out in little clouds.

He slows to a quick walk. Lon’qu’s voice cuts over the distance, all his attention on Robin. “Are you sure you’re all right, Robin? Lissa said she was going to bring you blankets, but that was a while ago.”

Robin coughs and clutches the jacket tighter, and then forces a smile on her face. Chrom exhales with relief as he sees her moving. “I’m f-fine. It doesn’t hurt. Wh-what about y-you – aren’t you c-cold?” Her smile fades as she spots Chrom coming toward her. She starts to stand, but Lon’qu grips her shoulder and holds her down. He crouches beside her, hand still on her shoulder.

“Lissa said to stay still, and let it heal,” he growls. “You’re not standing until she says it’s all right.”

Robin winces, but doesn’t resist. Chrom can see now that she’s shivering, but at least Lon’qu’s jacket looks mostly dry. Chrom reaches for his cape.

“Ch-chrom, that’s not nec-cessary…” she trails off. Chrom kneels and finishes detaching the fabric. It’s not much protection, but it is waterproof and durable. He places it carefully on her soaked legs.

Then he leans over her, and pulls her to him in an embrace. In that instant he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks, or who might be watching and reading into him touching her. He just holds her, wishing he could have protected her.

His heart is racing. She could have caught hypothermia in the water.She could have _died_. The thought strikes him with anger, and it is directed at the man on the other side of Robin. Lon’qu was supposed to be protecting her. Robin has always spoken confidently in her husband’s abilities at keeping her out of harm’s way, but he failed today.

Chrom forces himself to let go of her.

“What happened?” he demands, not looking at Lon’qu for fear that his anger will shine through. “Are you all right?”

“Spear,” she gets out, raising Lon’qu’s jacket slightly so that Chrom can see the soggy beige shirt coated in blood. Chrom stops breathing for a moment, and then forcefully reminds himself that Lissa has already seen to it. She continues, her teeth clicking together, “Standing t-too close t-to the edge.”

“We took out their Captain and some spearmen came back to get revenge,” Lon’qu explains. “They were armed with Short Spears and she took one meant for me, and then fell into the water.”

Robin shifts under Chrom’s gaze and closes her eyes, shivering.

“You could have died,” Lon’qu says quietly, “you silly woman.”

“At l-least you j-jumped in aft-ter me.”

“Is everything all right, my lord?” Frederick asks carefully behind Chrom. He reminds Chrom of his place, that he shouldn’t appear _too_ concerned over Robin’s safety, even though she is his closest friend.

“Yes,” he says, standing. He looks at Frederick and the two Feroxi leaders. “It seems so.”

“I didn’t expect you of all people, Lon’qu, would take a swim in the harbor!” Basilio chuckles, and Chrom sees the normally dour Feroxi swordmaster smile at his old ruler.

“Anything for Robin,” he says, and then looks at Chrom. That look zings up his spine, and suddenly Chrom is absolutely certain that Lon’qu has figured out that he’s been intimate with Robin. He returns that gaze with his own strong resolve, the strength he’s gained over the past two years of being the Prince in charge of Ylisse.

Lissa suddenly rounds the crates with an armful of blankets. He is strangely grateful for the distraction. “Ah, brother, hold these,” she says, and shoves them into Chrom’s arms. She kneels beside Robin, her eyes on the woman’s cold face. “Had to trek halfway back to the Longfort to find some,” Lissa complains. “Let me see it, Robin.”

“Can I g-get up?” Robin asks Lissa, still shivering. Chrom unfolds one of the blankets as Lissa checks her wound.

“Yes, it’s healed,” Lissa says. Chrom’s stomach gradually unclenches. Lon’qu grips Robin’s hands and pulls her to her feet, and Chrom sweeps the blanket around her. He is careful not to touch her more than necessary. Robin carefully hands Chrom’s cloak back to him with a smile.

Lissa takes another blanket and drapes it over Lon’qu’s shoulders. Even with the years of being with Robin, and the time spent as a bodyguard for Chrom’s sister, Lon’qu still flinches when Lissa touches him.

“You two need to get in front of a fire for the rest of the night,” Lissa tells them, and then grabs the third blanket from Chrom and rushes off to help another injured Shepherd.

“There’s a lit fire in the Quartermaster’s Office, for now,” Basilio tells Lon’qu, who nods. “We’ll take you back to the Long Fort when we’re done here.”

Robin protests, “I n-need to-”

“It can wait,” Chrom tells her sternly. “Go warm up immediately.”

She looks at him, dazed. “What about-t the th-third ship?”

“They fled,” he tells her. “Go, get warm. We’ll join you later and figure out our next steps.”

Lon’qu grips her around the shoulder and leads her away, and Chrom watches as she looks over her shoulder at him. Her eyes apologize for scaring him like this, and he exhales.

She’s all right, for now. But this could happen again. He makes a mental note that the next time they are alone together, he will tell her about Lon’qu’s defiant glare, and the sinking suspicion that he knows.

Two people already know… He prays they can keep their secret from reaching the rest of the Shepherds.

~*~

The lights of the castle seem to mock Robin as she walks the corridors. The last time she was staying here in Ferox, she had failed to rescue Emmeryn. Even though she has since forgiven herself, and she knows that there wasn’t much that she could do, the memories of this place still haunt her. She finds herself outside of Chrom’s room, and hesitates a moment.

_This is a very bad idea,_ she thinks, but she can’t sleep in that room with Lon’qu. They are both still so cold from their dunk in the harbor, and she needs a fire to warm her bones. She can’t help but think about how Lon’qu ran off, ignoring her, to go kill the Captain of that ship. Should she read further into that incident, or was it simply that he was angry that Ferox was under attack?

Robin raises her knuckles to the door and knocks twice, quietly. If Chrom is sound asleep, he won’t hear. She bargains with herself – if he doesn’t answer in five seconds, she will leave and go back to Lon’qu. Three seconds longer and she will go find some liquor, and damn Chrom’s request –

The door opens. Chrom peeks out, rubbing at one eye. His shirt is unbuttoned and untucked from his pants, giving her a glimpse of golden skin and toned abs. He stands taller when he sees her.

“Oh, Robin.” He gives her a little smile. “What can I help you with?”

“I need to get warm,” she whispers, and in spite of herself, she blushes, and feels a little smile turn up her mouth.

“Okay,” he says, and steps back, gesturing her into the room. His room is simply adorned, in the Feroxi style. The four-poster bed is large and the blankets are still neatly made, so she knows he wasn’t yet asleep.

He closes the door softly, and then comes to her. He wraps his arms around her, and she rests her cheek on his warm chest, listening to his heartbeat for a few moments. “You scared me today,” his voice rumbles in her ear. “I – I had forgotten what that feeling of panic felt like.”

“I scared myself,” she says, digging her fingers into the back of his shirt. The memory of that cold water rushing into her lungs, and the heavy weight of her clothing and armor tugging her deeper, makes her shudder. She can feel her breath hitching, and forces it to steady out. “If Lon’qu hadn’t been there… I don’t think I would have made it.”

His arms squeeze her tighter, and he starts to say something, but then changes his mind. “Someone would have been watching for you, if Lon’qu wasn’t with you. I won’t let you go off by yourself. You’re too valuable.”

_Too valuable…_ The idea of it makes her shiver. She presses gently against his chest, and he releases her, frowning.

“Robin, is something wrong?”

“I… no.” She rubs the back of her fingers against his cheek, studying his face intently. “I just… I’m not that valuable. I’m just your tactician.”

“You’re valuable to me, Robin. I… it will destroy me if you die.” He closes his eyes, and rests his forehead against hers. “I don’t think I realized how important you were until I thought you were … dead.”

“Oh, Chrom,” she breathes.

Robin understands that pain and fear, and so she’s not surprised when Chrom presses his mouth against hers, urgently. His hands slide around her waist and then he backs her up into the door. She responds with her own urgency, the chill in her body fading beneath Chrom’s heat. She parts his shirt back to his shoulders, running her fingernails along his hot, soft skin. He strips out of the shirt and drops it behind him, still kissing her.

She moans as his tongue slips between her teeth. He’s being a lot more forward and possessive than last time, but she wants it. Chrom catches her hands and twines their fingers together, and then presses them back against the wooden door. She pulls on his hands, but he holds tight. He backs up after a few moments, his blue eyes filled with longing. Robin stares back, her emotions bared to him. She doesn’t know what he sees in her face, but he accepts all of it, and it spurs him forward.

He lets go of her hands and unbuttons her freshly dried cloak, and it falls behind her, crumpled against the door. Her shirt quickly joins it. Then he fumbles with her pants for a few moments, looking for the clasp. She moves his hands aside and unbuttons them, and then he slips his hands in beside hers, pushing down on the fabric until her smallclothes are revealed.

She steps out of her pants slowly, feeling a little self-conscious. She obtained this matching lace-edged set of smallclothes from a saleswoman in Ylisse a while ago. They were a wonderful surprise for Lon’qu, but now Chrom gets to enjoy them.

“Gods, Robin.” Chrom’s eyes flick from her underwear to her bra, his eyes wide and yet intense at the same time. She shifts, and he reaches a hand down to caress the lace trim below her belly button. “You’re beautiful.”

His hands slide back behind her, cupping her rear, and then he kneels before her and presses his cheek against the lace. With a sigh of pleasure, Robin leans her shoulders back against the door to keep her balance. One of his hands is gently rubbing in circles along the bottom edge of the underwear.

He makes a soft noise in his throat, and looks up her body at her. She exhales shakily, loving the way he looks along her body. He is equal parts lustful and possessive, and his eyes sharpen on her face for an instant.

Suddenly, Chrom rises, picking her up by her thighs and lifting her with him. She wraps her legs around his waist and laughs, holding onto his shoulders. He carries her over to his bed, and deposits her at the edge of it. He leans over, his hair falling into his eyes, and kisses her. She gets lost in the soft edges of his mouth, and her hands run along the hard muscles of his back. When he pulls back, she lies there gasping and wanting more.

He backs up, a knowing smile on his lips and in his eyes, and then kneels before her. He slips his fingers beneath the underwear, working them slowly down her hips. When his mouth touches her sensitive nub, she gasps, and arches against the bed. He holds on to her hips and chuckles at her reaction for a moment. The vibration makes her squirm.

Chrom lays kisses against her inner thighs, and then does something with his tongue that makes her call out his name. Her hands fly to his hair, not to direct him, but just to touch him, because she can’t bear not touching him in that moment. Every movement from his tongue brings a rising wave of passion. When that crested wave crashes through her, she lays there slack and sated for a few moments, completely boneless. She doesn’t think she’s felt this relaxed, ever.

Chrom lifts her in his arms and moves her further up the bed. He turns down the blankets and sheets and then lays her against the pillows. She caresses his cheek for a moment.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asks.

She grins, and kisses him softly. “You couldn’t tell?” she teases. “It was wonderful.”

He reaches down and parts her legs, then presses his erection and his hips against her. She gasps as he brushes against that sensitive spot, and little shocks explode along her body. He slips inside and shudders against her, one hand sliding behind her head.

He rises onto his hands, and she touches his arms and shoulders, caressing the muscles there. Every thrust makes her moan or cry out, and his rhythm seems sharper and stronger than it was the first time. He rubs his hands along the exposed curves of her breasts, flicking a finger idly beneath the fabric to tweak her nipples.

He pauses in his thrusting to expose her nipples, and then licks at them. She moves her hips beneath him, wanting him to continue the movement, but he resists with a laugh. “Patience,” he says, with one nipple carefully between his teeth. Desire stretches between them, and she squirms beneath him.

“Please, Chrom,” she moans, running her fingers in his hair. “Please.”

Chrom kisses her, smiling, and when he pushes back into her she moans against his lips. He presses his chest against hers and resumes, his breathing hot against her neck.

His pace builds and Robin raises her own hips to meet his. He groans as he climaxes, resting his forehead against her collarbone. Robin touches his hair as their breathing slows, and then she reaches down to bring the blankets up to cover their sweaty bodies.

“Robin,” he whispers as she’s almost asleep. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says back, and he clutches her tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's more Chrobin fun! :) I realize lace underwear may not be strictly canon, but they have bikinis in the Summer DLC.
> 
> In case you're wondering, no, Chrom didn't "forget" to tell Robin about his suspicions regarding Lon'qu. He made a decision not to address it yet. 
> 
> The next chapter will be out in about a week, and will address Plegia, the Hierophant, and more drama ... a lot of good stuff. Maybe in two or three chapters, I'm planning a bit of Lon'qu/Robin explicit content. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think!


	6. Plegian Surprise

Chapter 5 – Plegian Surprise 

Early the next morning, Robin sneaks out of Chrom’s bed while he is still asleep. She wants to stay, but knows that she had better keep up appearances. It is not yet dawn, and she wanders the chilled halls for a while before turning into a room at random.

It is a large empty sitting room, where the Khans of Regna Ferox hold less formal meetings and gatherings. Logs sit in the fireplace, waiting for a flame to ignite them. She casts a fire spell and soon has a cheerful fire going. Cross-legged in front of the growing fire, she studies the interwoven bands of silver around her left-hand ring finger.

_I should tell Lon’qu soon_ , she thinks, and the thought is painful. _Before we leave for Valm._ The niggling voice in the back of her mind points out that moment when he ran away from her on the docks. _It is likely he suspects something already._

She snatches a pillow from one of the couches and rests her head on the raised hearth, close to the flames. She feels the somehow tangible presence of this thing that she and Chrom have made, forged between them like a thin metal chain. She knows it’s only a matter of time before Lon’qu trips on it.

With dark thoughts swirling around her, somehow she manages to drift into an uneasy sleep.

Robin awakens to the sound of boots, and raises her head. Her neck aches from being twisted, and she groans as she sits up. The long floor-to-ceiling windows along the outer wall show that it is morning, and her fire has been reduced to ashes.

“Robin? What are you doing in here?” Lon’qu crouches beside her. He’s fully dressed and sweaty. He has probably just come from the practice arena, with Basilio.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She rubs at her neck and winces.

“Come here,” he says, and sits down on the couch.

She takes a seat before him, leaning her back between his legs. The skin on his fingers is rough, but when he starts kneading against her neck, she no longer notices. She exhales and lets his fingers caress the pain away. He’s had two years of practice on her, and he knows where she holds tension. His massages help her headaches sometimes, although other times it has no effect.

After a few minutes of silence, he speaks.

“Robin,” he breathes behind her, “I failed you.”

She reaches back and stills his hands, and then turns around, leaning her body in between his legs. “How so?”

“I didn’t listen to you. I thought I knew better.” He looks down at his hands and grits his teeth. “And then you took that spear meant for me…”

“Lon’qu,” she says softly. When he doesn’t look up, she takes his face in her hands, rubbing her thumbs against the stubble there. His dark, deep eyes are squeezed slightly. “It wasn’t your fault. I made the decision to jump in front of you.”

“That only makes it worse,” he says.

“So you made a mistake, running out there. We all make mistakes from time to time. Even I do.” The irony of that statement is not lost on her, but she pushes through to what she means to say. “I chose to follow you, and it was fine.”

He closes his eyes and sighs. “You really don’t blame me for it?”

She shakes her head, even though he can’t see it. “No, I don’t. This is war. Things are going to happen.”

He throws his arms around her and her face is pressed against the fur of his jacket. It smells like him, woodsy and spicy, and she breathes in.

That figurative chain she felt last night, the one between her and Chrom, suddenly feels like it’s wrapped tight around her stomach.

Lon’qu doesn’t deserve this.

She pulls back, her heart suddenly racing. “Lon’qu, I-”

“Robin, there you are!” Her head whips around, toward the door. Chrom and Frederick are standing in the doorway.

Lon’qu stands, and to Robin’s surprise he is blushing as he helps her to her feet. He has no problems touching her in public normally, but perhaps it is the private nature of their conversation that makes him react like that.

“There’s been a messenger from Plegia,” Frederick says. “They have agreed to meet with us, regarding the Valmese. The Shepherds are packing up now, and we can leave in an hour.”

“Good,” Robin says, and folds her emotions deep inside again. If Chrom and Frederick had appeared thirty seconds later, they would have walked in on her confessing the affair to Lon’qu.

She goes to make preparations to leave, feeling as if she just dodged a lightning bolt.

~*~

The sun is setting as Robin walks on the path leading up to the castle. Chrom is at her side, and Frederick a few paces behind. Robin finds herself falling in stride with Chrom naturally. She rests her hand on her sword, eyes alert for trouble.

Inevitably Robin’s thoughts return to Lon’qu. She tries to imagine how he will take it, but can’t focus past an expression of shock and anger. _He shouldn’t hear it second-hand_ , she thinks. _I should tell him tonight, after this. Just get it over with._

Chrom reaches out and twines their fingers together, his left to her right. She looks down at their clasped hands, and then up at him, a faint smile touching her lips.

Chrom bumps her shoulder with his. “Are you all right?” he asks.

“Yes, just tired.” A thought strikes her, and she smiles. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Incidentally, neither did I.” He grins.

From behind them, Frederick clears his throat loudly.

Her happiness fades somewhat as Frederick’s subtle reprimand makes her feel cold. Chrom tosses a glare over his shoulder but keeps hold of her hand. She doesn’t want him to let go.

They round a corner of the path and the castle comes into view. Robin forces her mind to focus on the new Plegian king and the discussion that will happen. They need boats and supplies, to travel across the wide sea.

The Plegians agreed to meet with them on their horrifically named Carrion Island. Everyone who’s heard about the meeting thinks it is a trap, but they need Plegian aid too badly to turn it down. The rest of their Shepherds are waiting back at camp on alert, while Chrom, Robin and Frederick go alone to meet the new king. It is not ideal, but they don’t have a choice.

They enter the small castle at the top of the hill and wait for the king in the throne room. Robin opens up to her foresight. All she gets is a brief sensation of unease, and the heavy feeling that something is being hidden from her. She frowns; it is not often that she can’t see what lies ahead, even if it’s just brief glimpses that make no sense.

The king keeps them waiting for almost half an hour, and by the end of the time Robin is pacing back and forth, across the heavy red carpet that stretches from the door straight up to the throne. The sense of unease has grown until it is hard to think around it.

Chrom grabs her forearm as she walks past him, startling her. “Peace, Robin. You’re making _me_ nervous.”

“Something feels wrong about this,” she says. “I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, but—”

“Prince Chrom,” a smooth voice calls from beyond the throne. Chrom drops her arm and turns toward the speaker. “In the name of Grima and king, I welcome you.”

Robin squints. Something about the woman, dressed in a streamline purple and black outfit, is familiar, although Robin isn’t certain exactly what until Chrom points it out.

“You were with Gangrel, weren’t you?” he asks. “Aversa, I believe.”

“I’m pleased you remember me.” She smiles and gives a little chuckle that Robin does not like. It sounds like trouble. “I was, but I am now with King Validar.”

Slender and sexy, this woman takes a few steps toward Chrom. Robin steps up beside him and glares.

“My, so protective?” Aversa laughs. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything to him. Ah, I believe the king regnant will see you now.” She gestures to a side entrance, and a man steps through. He is tall and lanky, his fierce goatee and long face adding to the stretched impression.

“No,” Robin whispers, and takes a step back, bumping into Frederick accidentally. Frederick puts a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. _I… killed him_ , she thinks.

Chrom looks at the man, and his face hardens.

Robin stares at the wizard that she knows she killed two and a half years ago, and tucks her hands into opposing sleeves to hide their trembling. This man is the Plegian king now, but she knows with every fiber of her being that this is the same person that entered Ylisstol and attempted to murder Emmeryn. Right before she killed him, he had said something that hinted that he knew her. Through the years she’d had time to think about it, and wonder what it meant. 

She did not expect to see him again.

The king makes some light conversation, but Robin is barely listening. Her mind dashes back to the day of the assassination attempt, in the middle of Ylisstol’s castle. His voice, in memory, grates on her mind. _“Oh, I know you… Submit to me, and perhaps I might honor you with the truth!”_ How is he alive? What truth would he have grudgingly shared?

“…And you must be the Lady Robin.”

She jolts, and looks up at him. “You know of me, sire?”

“Ylisse’s master tactician is renowned throughout the world, my dear.”

Robin bristles at the term of endearment. He has certainly not earned that familiarity, but after a second she lets it go. She can’t start an argument with this man over a turn of phrase, much as she wants to find a reason to reject him. They need Plegia’s support too much.

“This war against Valm will be over quickly, if it is left in your capable hands.” King Validar smiles, but it looks like a sneer to Robin.

“Thank you,” she says, and bows her head to his compliments. Inside her thoughts are swirling as she tries to understand what his intentions are.

The king turns to Chrom. “In good faith, Plegia will provide enough funds to supply the campaign against Valm. I will give you eight hundred warships and two hundred transports.”

“That is… surprisingly generous of you, milord. We could not ask for more, quite literally. You offer most all your assets…” Frederick eyes the king suspiciously. Robin has to agree with Frederick’s assessment. It is a much better offer than Robin had expected.

“I’m certain you understand that I cannot give any of my troops to the cause. Our army was decimated in the last war two years ago, and we have not yet recovered.” Robin hears the lightly veiled accusation in the king’s tone. He means to suggest that Ylisse was the cause of the Plegian army’s lack of troops.

At her side, Chrom’s hand tightens into a fist, and she realizes she needs to diffuse that anger.

“A word, Prince Chrom…” Robin touches Chrom’s arm and gently draws him back so that they can talk in relative privacy. They both know that the Plegian king and his assistant are listening intently, so she guards what she says.

“You recognize him too, don’t you?” Chrom hisses, his eyes intent on her.

She nods, and leans closer. “It is the same wizard, I’m certain of it.”

“How did he-”

“I don’t know.” She cuts him off, bringing him back to the task at hand. “But I know we need this aid. It is a good offer, and I can find no fault in it.”

Chrom catches on to what she is trying to convey. He relaxes his hands and exhales, and then nods at her. They step back to the waiting king, who is watching with a smug look. Robin knows he heard every word, but oddly enough, he makes no comment about their recognition.

“We accept your offer,” Chrom says. Validar holds out a long-fingered hand, and Chrom is forced to shake it. He pulls away as soon as he can.

Robin says, “I’ll have detailed plans and instructions ready for you in the morning.”

“If that’s all, we should head back to camp now,” Frederick says.

The king holds up a long finger. “Wait, there’s someone that would like to meet with you. Our Hierophant, a leader of our religion, has requested to see you.”

A Grimleal Hierophant wants to see them? Robin flicks her eyes sideways to Chrom, whose face is tight with apprehension.

A hooded figure approaches through the same door that the king entered, and Robin gets her second surprise of the day.

The Hierophant pulls down her hood and gives Robin a stare. This woman looks exactly like Robin, down to the way she has styled her hair.

Frederick and Chrom make noises of surprise, but Robin’s heart is hammering in her chest.

King Validar makes introductions. “This is Prince Chrom, his lead tactician Robin, and his stalwart knight…”

“Frederick,” Aversa supplies.

The Hierophant has eyes only for Robin. “Your name is Robin, too? How… interesting.” The religious leader steps forward and walks around Robin, studying her with a tilted head. Robin turns with her, unwilling to put her back to this woman. As the Hierophant completes her circle, she reaches out and takes Robin’s right hand.

Instantly, Robin feels a stabbing pain in her head.

“Ah,” she groans, and brings her left hand up to her temple.

Chrom catches her arm, but she barely feels it, for the Hierophant is running her thumb along the top of Robin’s hand, where the mark sits.

The Hierophant speaks in a low, contemplative voice, as if to herself. “The heart still sleeps, but the blood flows through it. And the blood is strong.” The Hierophant backs up and gently releases Robin’s hand.

Instantly the pain is gone, and Robin stands up straight. Chrom is supporting her, one arm around her back.

“It appears your tactician maybe be coming down with something,” Validar said smoothly. “You should take care, Lady Robin – I would hate if you were not at your best when our enemies gather.”

_Sure he would_ , Robin thinks. Except for the fact that she now knows that Validar is their enemy. He might be playing along for now, but she will never forget that Plegia killed Chrom’s sister.

Looking at Chrom’s tense arms, Robin is certain that he isn’t fooled by Validar’s good intentions, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hated the whispering in game in this scene with the king, so I reworked it somewhat. 
> 
> The next chapter will probably be in 10 or so days - I've reached the end of the mostly-written scenes at this point, so it will take a little bit longer to get through them. I don't want to put out unedited scenes! The next chapter will be pretty plot-heavy, as well. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think!


	7. Ambush

Chapter 6: Ambush

Robin sits in front of her makeshift strategy table later that night, idly touching the little pieces that represent Plegia’s offering to the cause. She stares through the board, her mind firmly recalling the afternoon’s events.

She can’t think of any strategies while the haughty look on that Hierophant’s face mocks her behind closed eyelids. Why did that stranger look exactly like her? Why did her touch give her such a headache?

_The heart still sleeps, but the blood flows through it._ The confusing words, spoken as if the Hierophant was thinking aloud, run through Robin with a shudder. Try as she might, she can’t figure out what they mean. _The heart of what?_

The Plegians are planning something. They gave in way too easily, and she _remembers_ killing Validar back when Emmeryn was being attacked. That was the night Marth pulled her aside for that private conversation…

She shakes the memories away and picks up a pair of little wooden icons from her map. Her hands are quivering with the feeling that something has gone completely wrong, even though on the surface it is all going right. Plegia has given them what they wanted, but it feels off. And she still wants to tell Lon’qu… but whenever she thinks of _that_ , the tent starts spinning.

With a muffled cry, she throws the pieces in her hand across the tent.

Robin picks up another handful of pieces and then sweeps her hands across the map, clearing them all off, Plegian, Feroxi, Ylissean and Valmese alike. The pieces scatter in the grass at her feet, and then she kicks her stool for good measure.

With a whirl of her cloak, she turns to the second table and slaps her hands down onto the pieces there. A sharp pain shoots across her left hand, but she ignores it, sweeping those pieces to the ground too.

She’s crying now, and it’s getting hard to breathe between the sobs. She sinks down to her knees in front of the table and covers her face. It’s been a while since she’s had a panic attack, and it comes upon her forcefully.

The blood is rushing to her head and she feels like she’s going to pass out. She draws in a quiet gasp, pressing her hands to her temples.

“Robin,” Lon’qu says, and he’s suddenly crouching beside her. He doesn’t touch her, but his presence adds to the panic. She ducks her face from him. Somehow, though, his voice breaks through to her. “Breathe, Robin. Deep breaths, in and out.”

She closes her eyes and follows his instructions, and she gradually relaxes. When she gets her breathing back to normal, he smooths the hair back from her sweaty forehead. He sits on the grass, partially beneath the table, and takes her slack body in his arms.

“You’re bleeding,” he says with a gasp. She looks down at her hand dispassionately. He grips her fingers and holds her hand out before them. One of the pieces broke, and blood is seeping out around the thick splinter in her palm.

Lon’qu stands up, cradling her, and she protests weakly. “I can walk,” she whispers, but mostly she feels undeserving of his tenderness. He deposits her on the cot, and she lies on her side, watching as he gazes around the tent, trying to find healing supplies. She always keeps some in her strategy tent.

Eventually he retrieves some gauze from her supply bag.

“You should be more careful,” he says, and pulls out the splinter. She winces as he puts pressure on the wound, and then starts wrapping it. “I came in here to see if you’ve eaten anything yet,” he said. “I noticed you haven’t been eating well since we heard about the Valmese invasion. And now, this whole Hierophant business must be bothering you.”

_Among other things_ , she thinks. The fact that he’s here reminds her that she’s cheating on him, but in the aftereffects of the panic attack, she is content to let him take care of her.

“It’s not just the Hierophant,” she says weakly, and he finishes wrapping her hand. “It’s the Plegians. I don’t trust them, and I can’t plan for their treachery if I don’t know what it is.”

He looks at her steadily for a few moments, and Robin sees something heavy in his eyes. “You’ll figure something out, when it comes. I believe in you.” He brings over a bowl of figs and a roasted pheasant leg from camp dinner, and sets them on the bed beside her. She sits up.

The figs make her pause, and a heavy spike digs into her heart. He makes these sorts of gestures from time to time. The figs remind her of the day she grew so frustrated with his phobia of women that she started throwing them at him. In a way, figs were a way to reach out, when she couldn’t physically touch him. Lon’qu sits beside her on the cot.

“Robin,” he says, and moves to touch her arm. His eyes are down, and his hand trembles against her skin. “I know why you haven’t been eating.”

“You… do?” She looks up at him, and feels ill. She certainly can’t eat anything now, when her stomach feels like it’s gone and twisted into a hard knot. _This is it. He knows about me and Chrom._ She steels herself for what’s coming.

He flexes one hand on his knee. “I’ve learned your expressions, your gestures over our time together. I know when you are feeling guilty.”

She closes her eyes. Her heart races in her chest like it wants to leap out of it and fly through the tent flap. This soon after the panic attack, her heartbeat is already elevated. Her voice is soft. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m right, aren’t I? You and Chrom… ” Lon’qu trails off, and his voice is cold. He removes his hand from her arm.

She drops her eyes, and grits out the words. “Yes. We’ve had sex.” She feels like she has to say it aloud, even though part of her is so ashamed she wishes the ground would rise up and swallow her.

“Ah.” Lon’qu sits quietly for a moment. The words hang like a heavy ebony fabric between them for a moment. The silence is deafening.

Eventually she has to break it, and her voice is small. “Are you mad?”

“Of course.”

She looks up at him. “You don’t have to stay. I would understand.”

He meets her gaze, and his eyes are vacant. It makes her shiver. “Robin, do you want me to go?”

“Of course not. I love you,” she replies instantly. And she does. It is not a lie, not like it was when she said it to Chrom, two years ago. Over the years he has grown on her, and they developed a working relationship, built on trust and mutual comfort. If she had never met Chrom, she knows she would be happy with Lon’qu.

That thought hurts. She reaches out her hand for his forearm, and then pulls back, torn between wanting to give him comfort, and giving him space. Instead, Robin takes a fig from the bowl and rolls it in her hands.

Purposefully, Lon’qu reaches for her hand and grips it, holding the fig between their palms. He leans into her, pressing the bridge of his nose against her cheekbone. Tears build up in Robin’s eyes, and her face feels tight.

His voice is soft against her skin. “Are you going to keep doing it?”

She looks down. She can’t lie to him now, and she can’t make promises that she knows she will break. Her willpower, at least when it comes to Chrom, is non-existent. “Yes.”

“Were you going to tell me?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Soon. Before we left for Valm.”

“Robin… I knew before we were married that you were still in love with Chrom.” He sighs. “I… need some time, and space, to process this.”

"I understand." She nods.

He rises, and leans down and kisses her cheek. She tries not to think that it is goodbye, but when he leaves her tent, it feels lonely and empty. Her life feels like her tent – in disarray, pieces of her scattered everywhere, and everyone is expecting some amazing plan to come bursting out of her, solving this Valm situation without a protracted war. Solving what she has done to her marriage without dragging all three of them through the figurative mud.

She rises, leaving the food on the cot, and rushes out the flap. She still has that one fig clutched in her undamaged fist. Thankfully it is dark out so no one can see the tears streaming down her face as she leaves the camp.

~*~

Robin finds a large rock to sit on, overlooking the ocean, and swipes at her tears. It was both easier and harder than she thought it would be, telling Lon’qu about the affair. Now that he knows, she feels sick, but it isn’t as overwhelming as she had expected.

She’s gone far from camp, but it is peaceful out here. The surf crashes against the rocks far below her, and she brings her knees up to her chest and listens for a few minutes. She looks down at the fig in her right hand, visible in the bright moonlight, and then tosses it out over the edge. 

_“Robin_ ,” she hears, and raises her head. There is no one around, and yet the call comes again. _“Heed me, Robin.”_

“Who’s there?” she calls, turning around on the rock.

_“Heed my call,”_ the voice comes again, and she stands up.

_Is that voice… in my head?_   Suddenly a sharp pain makes her double over, clutching her head. It feels oddly similar to when the Hierophant touched her hand, earlier. She winces and trips off the rock, barely catching herself. _That voice… it sounds familiar._

“Robin…” She looks up and sees the shimmering form of a person. Squinting against the pain, she takes a step back as she realizes who it is.

“King… Validar?” It _is_ a Plegian trap. He just appeared out of nowhere. “What are you…”

“I wanted to speak with you, alone.” He grins, and comes closer, and the pain intensifies until she can hardly see.

She gasps as he grips her hair and drags her head closer to his, until she has to throw a hand against his very real chest to catch herself. Her left hand aches as she puts pressure on the gash.

“Why do you close your heart to him, Robin?” he asks in her ear. “Have you truly forgotten… what you are meant to be?”

“Get off me! Get out of my head!” she snarls, squinting up at him.

“Such insolence,” he says coldly, “Especially to your own father.”

He releases her, and she falls to her knees before him.

“What?” She looks up at him. “Father? You?”

He chuckles, looking down at her. “The obeisance is a nice touch, my dear. Yes, you are my flesh and blood, but you are so much more than mortal.” He crouches beside Robin and catches her chin, forcing her head up. “You know what your destiny is, deep within. Claim it!”

“No! Leave me alone!” Robin shouts, and pushes his hand off.

“Why do you still resist, Robin? Come, join me and abandon these foolish, doomed servants of Naga. Give yourself to Grima.” He hovers over her, a grin on his goateed face. “Join yourself to the fell dragon!”

Suddenly, she can feel a large presence beyond his shoulder, something dark and infinite. It looks at her, and holds out a hand to her. Her right hand rises of its own volition, reaching toward that great darkness. The mark on her hand is glowing purple against her skin, shining in the night. She stares at the dark presence from her knees, horrified, but she can’t look away from those red eyes. Her hand inches forward.

“Robin, are you okay?”

Chrom – it is Chrom. His voice breaks through the strange spell she's fallen under.

Robin snatches her hand back and finds her voice. She croaks out something resembling his name, and can hear him moving noisily through the underbrush.

“Ah, the little prince again,” the King says, and scowls. “Soon enough, you will come to us and claim your kingdom.” He stands up, and his body fades away.

“Robin! Who was that? What happened?” Chrom rushes in and kneels beside her. She is glad that Chrom saw the apparition. She was starting to question her grip on sanity. And what of that massive darkness…?

She can only pant in pain and hold her head, and after a moment Chrom grabs her shoulders and pulls her to his chest. He rubs the back of her neck as she struggles to regain her poise. “It’s all right,” he soothes.

Her father… she can hardly believe it, and yet he has no reason to lie about it. How is it that no one knew that Validar’s child was missing, if he was in line for the throne? The succession of Plegia will fall to her upon his death… He head spins.

Chrom forces her to drink a potion that he’s found in his pocket. It is weak, but it takes enough of the edge off the migraine that she can raise her head.

“Are you okay? I heard shouting and thought the worst when you weren’t in your tent.”

“Yes… I’m fine,” she grits, but she can’t quite stand on her own yet. “King Validar… He spoke in my mind… he said… I am his daughter.”

“His daughter?” Chrom rocks back in surprise. “But… that would mean…” He trails off, thinking about the ramifications.

Robin exhales against his chest, and pushes up to her feet. He follows, a steadying hand on her elbow.

“Does this mean that doppelganger, the Hierophant, is your twin sister?”

She shrugs, one cold hand pressed to the side of her face. “It is possible. Likely, actually.” It would explain why they looked so similar.

“What other secrets are hiding in your past?” Chrom wonders.

Robin shudders at the thought. “I’m not sure I want to find out, if this is what is missing. To be a Plegian princess…”

Chrom frowns, and grips her hands gently. “It doesn’t matter, Robin. I still love you, no matter what your heritage. You’re still our tactician. You have proven yourself loyal to me, to Ylisse, many times over.”

She smiles up at him, through the pain in her head. “Thanks, Chrom. It means a great deal to me.”

“You are yourself, before you are any man’s daughter.” He reaches out and rubs his thumb against her temple, pushing his fingers gently into her hair. She closes her eyes and leans into the contact. He takes her other hand, and leans in to kiss her.

Unbidden, the look on Lon’qu’s face as he told her that he knew dashes across her mind, and she jerks back from Chrom, eyes wide.

“Chrom…I-”

“Milord!” Frederick cries, and comes crashing through the underbrush. He takes in their clasped hands, and doesn’t flinch or give her one of those disapproving looks. He looks panicked. “The camp is surrounded by Risen!”

Chrom blanches. “How? We posted sentries. Someone should have seen them coming!”

“They made a stealthy approach. I’ve never seen Risen act organized, like this.”

Robin feels her mind sluggishly respond to the threat, beneath the migraine. “How many are there?”

“A lot,” Frederick states grimly. “We must get you both to safety. Come quickly, milord,” Frederick says, and ushers the two of them back to camp. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers! I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope I did Robin/Lon'qu's relationship some justice here. I am planning a sexy scene between them in a few chapters. And of course more Chrom/Robin! 
> 
> Apologies for the delay on this chapter. I'm juggling a lot of writing projects right now, including a massive Original fiction that took up a lot of my spare time this week. 
> 
> Next chapter will feature more Lon'qu/Robin drama, Chrom being kind of clueless, and Marth! I hope to have the next chapter up early next week, as I'm on vacation (so work won't get in the way).
> 
> Please let me know what you thought about this chapter!


	8. Reaction

Chapter 7: Reaction

Chrom grips Falchion as they return to camp, and looks out into the moon-lit darkness of the valley to their north. He can see the red glowing eyes of the Risen, watching, waiting. He wonders if this island will live up to its name, and he and his Shepherds will be food for the vultures come dawn. A shiver runs through him as he thinks it, and almost immediately he rejects the thought as his eyes light upon Robin. If anyone can get them out of here, it is his tactician.

The valley that leads into the clearing where they made camp is surrounded by torches. Behind where Chrom stands, the camp is rising to action. Horses are being saddled, and men and women are rushing around in calm chaos, collecting weapons and finding their usual partners in preparation for battle. There is no panic in their movements, and Frederick’s earlier frantic reaction has been calmed now that he’s found Chrom. Robin had charge of his Shepherds while Chrom was ruling his country, and they have obviously thrived under her guidance.

He touches her arm and asks, “What do you think we should do, Robin?”

Robin is silent, peering out at the camp, and Chrom can’t see her face. She hasn’t acknowledged his hand on her arm, and she usually turns her attention to him when he speaks to her.

“Well, Robin?” Frederick says beside him. “What are our orders?”

Robin turns to them with a blank, slightly pained look on her face. She brings one hand up to her temple, and Chrom sees a hastily-dressed bandage on her palm.

Usually she responds to challenges like this quickly, but today she seems… slow. The events of the day shocked Chrom, and he can’t imagine what Robin is going through. For an amnesiac, finding family should be a joyous occasion, and yet because of who her father and twin sister are, it is unpleasant. Her father is the king of Plegia, and a man who attempted to kill Chrom’s sister recently, and her twin sister is the leader of the Grimleal religion, the religion that Chrom’s father crusaded against before his death.

And then whatever the king had done to her before Chrom had gotten there… She had been screaming in pain. Maybe this is simply too much pressure for her at this instant.

Chrom opens his mouth to start giving commands in her place. Suddenly, she shakes herself, and the numb expression fades, instantly replaced by her usual determined, confident gaze. She looks around the valley with narrowed eyes.

“I think we’re… trapped,” she says, spinning to look behind her.

Suddenly, a murder of crows appears nearby. Chrom leaps in front of Robin, not even aware that he’s moving to defend her until he is in motion. He brings up Falchion, and Frederick moves up beside him.

“Who’s there?” Chrom shouts, seeing a figure beneath the flying, shifting black birds.

A cackle issues from within the crows, and they fly off to perch in the nearby trees. A short, white-haired young man appears, wearing the robes of a Plegian mage.

“The ravens wanted me to tell you that you’re trapped!” he says, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

“Why do you find that funny?” Robin demands, raising her hand to Chrom’s shoulder and stepping up beside him. Chrom looks at her, impressed by her demeanor. She looks confident, and only the faintest crease of her eyebrows shows Chrom the physical pain she is still feeling.

“It’s not funny,” the young man retorts, turning to face her. A crow flies over to him and lands on his shoulder, cawing. The young man tilts his head to the bird and amends, “Well, maybe it is a little funny.”

“Are you Plegian, in charge of these Risen?” Frederick demands. “Have you come to gloat?”

“No, I came to warn you,” the mage says, finally appearing a little serious. “You’re trapped.”

“We know,” Chrom snaps. “Is there a way out of this trap?”

“What’s wrong? CAW-strophobic? Nya ha ha! Oh, I slay me!” The mage throws his head back and laughs. The crow launches off from his shoulder.

“Not if these Risen do it first!” Chrom says, gripping Falchion tighter.

Robin gives a snort and shakes her head. “He’s insane,” she mutters, and Chrom is tempted to agree.

“This is no time for japes,” Chrom continues to the mage. “If you’re not our enemy, I suggest you hide yourself!” Frederick gestures for Chrom and Robin to go to the center of camp, where the rest of their Shepherds are gathering.

“Hey, wait! I want to join your CAWs – I mean, I can help you!” The mage follows them, and grabs Robin’s arm. “I know magic! What do you say… birds of a feather, and all that?” He motions to Robin’s cloak, and Chrom can see the similarities between their patterns. If Robin’s father truly is the Plegian king, then she is Plegian, and he let her into his group. Another mage could be an asset… but Robin didn’t come across as mentally unstable.

Robin’s eyes are wide as she pulls her arm from the mage’s grasp, and looks to Chrom.

“Fine, you can help us,” Chrom says. “But stay back and try not to get in our way.” He can practically feel Frederick glaring a hole into the back of his head for allowing this dangerous stranger into their midst. But, to Frederick’s credit, he does not speak his mind.

Robin gathers all of the Shepherds, and disperses a few to the outskirts of their camp, to stand guard in case the Risen attack before they are ready. Chrom watches, anticipation making his blood run hot in his veins, as she breaks them up into pairs. Robin pairs an angry-looking Tharja with the newcomer, whose name is Henry. When Tharja protests, Robin pulls her aside and whispers something to the sour-faced woman. Tharja’s eyes widen, and she suddenly gives a brilliant smile that Chrom didn’t know she had in her. Robin nods tiredly, and the mage goes over to the newcomer.

In short order, Robin has the whole group organized, and she turns to Chrom.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to pair with you, today.”

“What about Lon’qu?” Chrom peers across the departing fighters, concerned. He spots Robin’s husband by his dark, messy hair, but can’t see who he was paired with.

“I put him with Vaike, for now.”

“Oh.” Chrom instantly thinks the worst. _Lon’qu knows_. When did Robin tell him? Is this why she is so distant right now? Chrom grabs her arm. “Robin-”

“Don’t ask, please,” she says, and shakes his hand off. “Not now.”

“All right,” he says, frowning as she looks away. She moves forward and calls Cordelia and Cherche to her, speaking softly to them. Cordelia’s red eyes peer at Chrom for a moment, and Chrom feels a pang of remorse as he’s reminded of Sumia - his wife, who he left behind in Ylisse. He hasn’t thought of her much since they left, but Cordelia is Sumia’s closest friend, so seeing her would bring the other Pegasus Knight up.

He doesn’t regret what he’s started with Robin. He feels bad for mistreating Sumia, though.

Suddenly he hears fighting coming from their right. The Risen take up the charge down the narrow walkway toward them, and then Robin is beside him and the aerial units are taking off with their passengers in tow.

The battle rushes past in a blur of movement. Chrom has nearly forgotten what a joy it is to fight beside Robin. She’s a force of nature, almost, focused both on the soldiers in her charge, and on Chrom’s immediate safety. He pulls her out of the way of an incoming arrow and then she blasts a fire spell toward the archer in retaliation.

The half-moon is shining bright enough that Chrom can see fairly well, but the flame magic from Robin’s tome is destroying his night vision. At his quick request she swaps out to a rare Celica’s Gale tome.

The pair make their way slowly up the hill, taking down all the Risen that fall into their path. Chrom sees Frederick astride his horse, with Lissa clinging to his back, to their right. On the other side of the valley, Cherche and Cordelia are lighting up the night with wyvern-fire and magical flames.

Suddenly, a Risen rushes toward Chrom, sword swinging. He raises Falchion, catching the blow high on the blessed blade. The Risen roars at him over their crossed blades, and Chrom shoves him away, then leaps at him when the creature stumbles. It fades into black mist beneath Falchion’s edge, and then he looks around for Robin.

She’s a few yards from him, glowing turquoise wind magic in both hands. There’s an ugly slash across her upper arm, parting the fabric of her cloak, and she’s beset by three Risen. Chrom charges toward them and slices at an axe-bearer as he raises his weapon. Robin finishes off one of the Risen with a shriek of magical wind, and Chrom leaps between her and the third Risen, turning aside the creature’s blade. Two quick strikes later, and the Risen falls beneath Falchion.

“Thank you,” she says, and frowns at her arm. She shifts it and winces, and then looks past Chrom, calling for Frederick to come near. He deposits Lissa beside them, and Robin urges Chrom to get on behind Frederick.

“Look, Chrom, that Risen on the bridge over there-” Robin motions as Lissa pulls out her staff and heals the wound. Chrom squints in the direction she points, and can barely make out one of the Risen, standing still in the center of the small bridge. Robin continues, “He keeps calling - Ow - more Risen, somehow. If you kill him – ah – they will stop appearing.” She looks down at his sister and says something quietly, and Lissa grins.

Chrom doesn’t question Robin’s assessment, although he really wants to stay with her and ensure she’s all right. It’s not a life-threatening slash, and Lissa is more than capable of healing it.

He trusts Robin implicitly on the battlefield, so he catches Frederick’s hand and mounts up behind Frederick, gripping Falchion tightly. They dash away from Robin and Lissa and easily plow through two more Risen. Chrom peers across the valley to see that the flame-wielding Cordelia and her companions are still advancing. He also sees purple magic, and realizes it must be from the two dark mages, Tharja and Henry.

Frederick helps him down off the horse and Chrom trades sword blows with a mounted Risen. His knight leaps in with a heavy Silver lance and shouts, “Pick a god and pray!” as he stabs the mounted unit. The force of Frederick’s strike throws the Risen off his horse.

A few more Risen appear out of thin air beside Frederick, and Chrom moves to his companion’s defense. At one point, Chrom hears higher voices yelling to his left. Robin and Lissa have re-entered the fray, the latter wielding an Elwind tome. The night shrieks with the sounds of their magic as they battle off a Risen Pegasus Knight. Lissa shouts with grim determination as she vanquishes the creature, and the women move closer to Chrom and Frederick.

Chrom wants to pair up with Robin again, but Frederick drops his hand in front of Chrom’s nose. “Milord, we can take the leader!” Robin is squinting across the valley, watching their troops on that side for any signs of difficulty, when he tries to catch her eye. After a brief pause, Chrom takes Frederick’s hand and mounts up again, and then they approach the Risen leader on the bridge.

Frederick throws a large axe at the leader, who roars and retaliates with a smaller axe. When Frederick rides close enough, Chrom slashes down at the foul creature, and then ducks back behind Frederick’s armored side.

Frederick takes down the Risen with another axe strike, and it falls to the valley below. “Kill… prince…” it howls, and then fades to black mist.

Chrom dismounts shakily, realizing that the creature had been sent with orders to kill him, specifically. This has to be the Plegians’ doing. He peers across the bridge to the fighting still happening over there, and makes to move with Frederick in that direction.

Robin grips his arm as he starts to move, holding him back as Frederick and Lissa move down the other side of the bridge. He stands still beside her, the touch of her fingers against his bare arm exciting the nerves in his whole body.

They are briefly lit up by a nearby flame spell, and Chrom gets a good look at her face. She looks tired, and drained.

“Thank you,” she says, as they are pitched back into near darkness.

“For what?”

“For listening to me so well.” Her eyes catch the faint light of a distant torch, and he sees she’s turned toward him. “You could have protested, but you just went with Frederick.”

“I trust you,” he says, and in spite of the fact that anyone could be watching, he twines his gloved fingers between hers.

She gives him a faint smile, and then pulls away from him. He knows they should keep their distance when the others are nearby, but he can’t help but crave more contact. He wants to pull her into his arms and protect her, to offer her comfort.

“Robin…” he starts, but trails off as a dark figure moves toward her. She’s far enough away from him that the figure probably didn’t see them together, but as the person approaches, Chrom realizes that it’s Lon’qu.

Chrom’s heart instantly starts beating faster as Robin’s husband comes up before her. They stand beside a torch, and Chrom can easily see their expressions. He can’t hear their conversation – they are too far away, and their voices pitched too low – but he can tell the tone of their discussion.

Robin says something to Lon’qu, who frowns, his arms crossed. After a moment, he nods.

He speaks, leaning toward her. She reaches out and touches his face, but he turns away from her. Lon’qu speaks again, louder this time, his syllables clipped. “…out of the _woods_ with him…”

Robin stands up straighter. “…talk about this later?”

Lon’qu straightens his shoulders, then turns on his heel and stalks off.

Chrom watches, wondering if he should have told Robin about Lon’qu, before he welcomed her into his room in the Feroxi Longfort last night.

Robin sighs and seems to crumple, watching after her husband with such pain on her face. Chrom realizes she doesn’t think anyone is watching her in that instant, not even himself. She swipes at tears leaking down her cheeks and crosses her arms over her chest.

Chrom may not be the best at reading subtle cues, but he sees these signs loud and clear. He moves further down the bridge, toward her.

“He looked angry,” he says to Robin, softly. She jumps, and then looks away when she realizes it’s Chrom. With an effort she pulls herself up, appearing strong for him.

“He should be,” she says, not looking at him. “I told him tonight, before I ran into my… father.”

“Are you okay?”

She pulls a smile together, and it almost looks real. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

It’s a lie, but for the life of him Chrom can’t figure out what to say next. “ _I’m sorry for ruining your marriage,_ ” doesn’t quite cut it.

So he just stands beside her, watching as Cherche and Nowi take out the last Risen. A ragged cheer issues from the Shepherds, and Lissa moves through them, healing any injuries.

“That’s the last of them,” Chrom says, sighing. “Gods, I thought it might never-”

A Risen teleports between Robin and Chrom, eyes glowing with menace, and reaches for Chrom with a stealthy blade.

Robin cries out his name, and he hears another voice from his left.

“Father!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK guys, this chapter was kind of difficult for me to write, because I feel torn between showing elements of the storyline and the battles, and showing the "behind the scenes" interactions between the characters. Do any of you want the big battles kind of like this Chapter, or can I just cut them down to snippets and brief descriptions? Unless I get overwhelming call for the battles like this, I'm going to switch over to the stuff that I'm personally more excited to write. 
> 
> This scene ended up going a bit long but I wanted to give Chrom some screen time. I kind of wanted to showcase his ignorance, a bit? He doesn't realize, for example, that Cordelia's look at the beginning of the scene is not very good (more on that later). Oh and Henry... I had to cut a lot of his jokes out because they are just.. painful. I love him but like Robin I think he's crazy. 
> 
> The next Chapter I've drafted up features a scene from Lon'qu's POV which I'm very happy about, and then we meet Marth. There's still a big Robin/Lon'qu explicit scene planned in a couple of chapters (the more I write toward that scene the more excited I get for it!), and more Chrobin. Next update next week, I think. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think of it so far!


	9. A Secret Revealed

Chaper 8 – A Secret Revealed

Lon'qu rips into the Risen with his Killing Edge, barely aware of Vaike following closely beside him. The creatures come at him with ferocity, and he returns it twofold. If he is fighting for his life, he doesn't have to think about Robin.

He comes to the end of the nearby Risen and pauses, catching his breath.

Vaike catches up and pats him on the back, giving a hearty laugh as he hefts his Brave Axe onto his shoulder. "Hey, that was some great fighting. I can't wait to take on those moves in our-"

Lon'qu stands up taller, abruptly, and raises his sword between him and Vaike. " _Don’t_ finish that sentence. I told you, I don't feel like talking." He's not going to harm Vaike, and the other man knows it, but the threat still holds some meaning.

"Whoa, okay," Vaike says, holding up his hands and raising his eyebrows. "What's the matter, you and Robin having problems?"

Lon'qu grunts. "None of your business."

"Are you afraid of losing her?"

The irony of that statement pulls Lon'qu up short. He stares at Vaike for a few moments and then shakes himself. Of course he's afraid of losing her. To Chrom. To death.

Vaike continues talking, perhaps backpedaling from his question at the murderous expression Lon’qu has adopted, but Lon’qu has stopped listening.

Sometimes he thinks it would be easier to just say, “To hell with it”, and leave Ylisse completely. Basilio would take him back with open arms, and Lon'qu would be glad to be back with the Feroxi where he had spent most of his adult years. He would be out of the way, make room for Robin to do as she pleased with Chrom. It would hurt a great deal, but maybe he could move on.

It was mostly Robin that he stayed for, two years ago when the realm returned to peace. He couldn't get her out of his mind, back then, and he even went out of his way to shop for the perfect ring. She had been one of the only women who attempted to get past his brusque manner. The others had attempted to be friendly, but when he turned them away coldly, most of them had stayed far away. Robin was the only one who attempted to help him get over his fear.

A large part of him is still in love with her, for those kindnesses and all the simple pleasures she’s given him. He had known this could happen, had suspected she might stray-

A Short Axe flies out of nowhere and Vaike leaps in front of it, barely blocking it in time. Lon'qu jumps back, embarrassed that he was not paying attention. _It’s all her fault_ , he thinks angrily, and then hastily amends that thought. _No,_ _I must accept some blame, too. I didn’t push as hard as I should have._

“Thank you,” he says grudgingly to Vaike, who all but preens under the gratitude. Lon’qu fights back a roll of his eyes – why did Robin put him with this idiot? Sure, they had grown close over the years, with Vaike helping Lon’qu and Frederick train the new Shepherds in between ridiculously over-classed sparring matches. The Hero loves challenging everyone, and never backs down from a battle he knew was stacked against him.

Lon’qu eyes Vaike, and wonders if he could take a page from this man’s book. Perhaps he should be fighting harder for Robin…

The rest of the Shepherds are standing down, and Lon’qu can hear them all speaking, asking each other if they’re all right. He sheathes his sword and exhales.

Then, Lon’qu spots Robin standing on the bridge beside Chrom, and his blood runs hot once more. He watches as Chrom grips her hand, but to Robin’s credit she pulls away from him. The look of near-adoration in the prince's eyes is infuriating.

He remembers seeing her, flushed and sweaty, coming out of the woods between Chrom and Frederick, and his feet are carrying him toward her before he realizes it.

She knows he’s coming, and intercepts him before he can get to Chrom and punch that look off the prince’s face.

“Lon’qu,” she says, stopping him. There’s a fresh slash on her upper arm, mostly healed, and her bangs are sticking to her pale face. “Is everything all right?”

“You… I…” He’s temporarily lost the ability to speak, but his glare is communicating for him.

She winces under his gaze. “I – yes, I know.” Her eyes beg him to not make a scene here. Normally, he would never air such a private matter in public like this, and it is a testament to his anger that he is even mindlessly contemplating it.

Robin’s hand reaches out and caresses his face, and in spite of what she’s done to his heart, her touch is still calming. He leans against her palm and sighs, allowing her to touch him for the briefest of moments. Then he turns from her hand and crosses his arms.

“I saw you coming out of the woods with Chrom,” he says, darkly. “Were you…”

Robin stands up straighter. “No. Not at all. It was… complicated. Can we talk about this later?”

Lon’qu grunts, and straightens his shoulders, then turns on his heel and stalks off. He doesn’t know if that was a lie, but he will wait and hear her excuse. It had better be a good one.

He walks right past Vaike and the others, who have started organizing patrols of the surrounding area. His feet carry him numbly to their sleeping tent. He’s been alone in here more often than not, lately. He strips off his weapons and his sharp-bladed vambraces. Robin’s pained face haunts him as he lies down on their large lonely cot, and the hot trickle of a tear leaks from his eyes.

Can he leave her? Should he leave her? She obviously holds some love for him still, and always has. Can he deal with a continued affair, knowing that she’s in the prince’s arms and his bed? _Will I be able to love her, knowing she’s also in love with Chrom?_

The thoughts crowd around until there’s room for little else in his head.

He can’t imagine that Robin made this decision on her own. There must have been some persuasion from the prince. It would be easier if this was all Chrom’s fault – if the prince made the first move, and Robin just went along for the ride. The prince has no concept of fidelity, apparently. With heavy eyes, he curls up on his cot, and presses his fist to his mouth.

He’ll wait and see what she has to say. Part of him wishes she would make the decision to leave easier for him. It would all just be much easier if he hated her, but he doesn’t. Not yet, anyway.

~*~ 

Robin cries out as she sees something coming for Chrom. She doesn't know what it is, but she senses the danger. Instinctively, she moves toward Chrom, but she’s not fast enough.

"Father!" Marth leaps in front of him, just as a Risen appears out of thin air. The creature raises a sword toward Chrom, but Marth catches it with her blade. They struggle for an instant, the Risen leering with that inhuman face.

Breaking out of her surprise at the young woman’s sudden appearance, Robin releases an Elthunder bolt at the Risen's back. The creature roars, spinning toward her and raising its blade. She backs up, reaching for her sword in its sheath. Suddenly the pointed end of Falchion stabs through the chest of the Risen, toward Robin, and the creature squeals as it fades into mist.

Robin peers around, ready for another attack, but the shock wears off when no more attacks are forthcoming.

She moves to Chrom, gripping his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m unharmed.” He looks her over quickly, making sure she is as well. “What was that?” he asks, and they both turn toward Marth, who is nervously sheathing her Falchion.

With a jolt, Robin recalls what Marth had shouted. Rubbing at her still-aching head, Robin asks, "Did you just call him… Father?"

Marth doesn’t immediately respond, instead adjusting the belt holding her blade, which looks identical to Chrom's Falchion. She seems to be preparing herself for something.

“Yes, I did.” Marth raises her head, and then turns to look right at Chrom. "This might be difficult to believe, but I am your daughter, from the future."

“From the future?” Chrom asks skeptically, and narrows his eyes at her.

_From the future…_ the thought echoes around in Robin’s head, and she shivers as she thinks about it. It is the strangest thing she’s ever heard, but at the same time, it makes sense. The logistics of it alone are unbelievable.

Marth moves closer to Chrom, staring at him. "Look at my eyes, and prove it for yourself."

Chrom leans in, and then his eyes widen. "Lucina... oh, gods! What about my daughter back in Ylisse?"

Robin feels a thrill of fear as she sees the exalted brand in the girl's left eye. This _is_ Chrom's daughter, from the future. Is that why Marth claims to know the future? Because she had been dealing with the consequences of their actions, in the future.

Marth – Lucina – shakes her head. “Your baby is safe and sound back home, at least today. I come from the future, more than ten years from now. I came back in time to try and change events, to forestall what might happen.” She looks right at Robin, and pins her with an intense stare. Robin exhales shakily, but meets that commanding gaze.

“Is that… my sword?” Chrom asks, quietly.

Lucina’s eyes fill with tears as she caresses the blade at her side. “Yes. It was left to me after…”

“After I died,” Chrom finishes grimly. “Oh, Lucina. You deserved more from me than one sword and a world of troubles.”

The tears gathering in the young woman’s eyes start to fall, and she ducks. Chrom steps toward her, and wipes at her cheek with a gloved thumb. Lucina looks up at him, and Robin is moved by the look in her eyes. Part desperation, and part loss – Lucina throws herself at Chrom and starts sobbing, and for his part, Chrom pats her hair and breathes soothing words that Robin can’t quite catch.

Robin freezes as she realizes something. _It was brought to me after… After I died_. Chrom’s death is what Lucina is trying to prevent.

Her breath feels suddenly hot in her lungs. Robin pushes the panic back down, her limbs shaking. She can’t think of this now – she has to stay together for the Shepherds, to get everyone off this forsaken island. She looks away from the tender reunion for an instant, and sees that her Shepherds are securing the perimeter and making certain that another attack won’t catch them by surprise. When she’s got herself under control, she turns back to Chrom and Lucina.

Over Lucina’s shoulder, Chrom’s face is set with fierce determination.

“I’m not planning on dying anytime soon,” he promises Lucina. His eyes are asking Robin for something, and she understands what he wants.

“I swear to keep him safe for you, Lucina,” Robin says, and reaches out to rub her hand over the girl’s back.

After a few moments, Lucina gives a heavy sniff and pulls back. “I’m sorry, it just…. overwhelmed me.” Her nose is red, and her eyes, but she smiles at both Chrom and Robin. “I’m just glad to see you alive and unharmed, now.”

Robin studies the girl's cobalt blue hair, and is surprised she didn't see the similarities between Marth and Chrom, before. It is there in the girl's strong, proud stance.

“I should tell your mother,” Chrom says. Robin is looking at Lucina when he says this, and sees Lucina look up at her in surprise. Is Lucina expecting Robin to protest this?

Robin says, “Yes, it’s only right you let Sumia know.” She flicks her eyes back to Marth, expecting contrition or apology in the girl’s eyes, but instead she still just looks shocked.

“Can we tell the others who you are?” Chrom asks Lucina, who agrees hesitantly.

Chrom, still a little surprised himself, goes to introduce Marth – Lucina, now – to his companions. As Lissa exclaims loudly, Robin looks over the Shepherds and realizes that one man in particular is not in their midst.

Lon’qu. Her heart flutters in her chest. He was quite upset earlier, and Robin assumes the shock of the admission has long since worn off. No one is looking her way, so she takes the opportunity to sneak away from the gathering crowd.

“Lon’qu?” she calls gently at the closed flap to their tent, and pushes her way inside. It is dim, only a pair of candles lit on the small stand beside the bed. Lon’qu is lying on the cot, facing away from her, still and quiet. She pads over to him and kneels, then says his name again.

He spins, a knife in hand, and then drops it onto the bed as he realizes it’s her. “Robin,” he says, and her name from his lips is devoid of that fond warmth he usually says her name with. She winces and can’t quite keep the frown from her mouth.

“I told you I would explain,” she says, and he grudgingly shifts on the bed, then pats the spot beside him. She sits, gingerly, no part of their bodies touching.

“So, explain.” He looks down at his hands, and she stares at his tense face, in profile. Robin draws a deep breath, and squeezes her eyebrows together, urging the headache to go away.

“After you left… I went walking in the woods. The king of Plegia appeared to me. He said… he said I was his daughter.”

Lon’qu squints at her. “What?”

“I know. It seemed ridiculous at the time, but now that I’ve had some time to think about it… it makes sense. That Hierophant… she might be my twin sister.” She trails off into silence, and shivers.

“Robin.” Lon’qu puts his warm hand on her cold ones. “If that’s true, then you’re the princess of Plegia.”

She nods. “I know. It sounds crazy, doesn’t it?” She doesn’t know what is crazier, this thought or the fact that Marth is actually Chrom’s daughter from the future. A lot has happened tonight, and she knows it will take some time to really digest all the implications.

“Not crazy. Just… unexpected. Did he say anything about you returning to him, as his heir?”

She frowns. “No, he didn’t.”

Lon’qu reaches out, around her shoulder, and gently pulls her against him. As her cheek rests against his shoulder, she blinks tears out of her eyes. They sit there for a few moments, and Robin can hear voices as the Shepherds return to camp. They will probably be moving out soon, to get away from this place as quickly as possible, but Robin can’t bring herself to move.

His voice is hard as he says, “That still doesn’t explain why you and Chrom were coming out of the woods together.”

She sits up. “My father… did something in my head, like he was attacking me. Chrom came to my rescue and scared him off. I don’t really understand it, but… it was like he was trying to… take me over.” Her voice grows smaller and smaller until she whispers the last. By admitting her deep suspicions to Lon’qu, maybe he can convince her of how strange it sounds. He usually has good suggestions for when she is truly stumped by a puzzle or maneuver.

He sits quietly for a few moments, eyes closed. “I hate to admit this… but he is a dark sorcerer. It’s possible he could try to control you.” Lon’qu shrugs. “Maybe you can talk to Tharja about this, and she could tell you if it’s plausible.”

It’s not the most helpful answer. Robin scrubs at her face, feeling the headache growing in intensity, along with a tired ache in her body. “He kept saying, ‘Give yourself to Grima’.”

“Your father is Grimleal,” Lon’qu says. “They are a very devoted religion. They hold their god sacred and believe that everyone should fear and respect him.” He pats her awkwardly on the knee. “Talk to Tharja. You know she’ll give you, of all people, a straight answer.”

Robin peeks out from her hands. “You do believe me, right?”

Lon’qu narrows his eyes, and then nods. “Yes, I believe you. It explains a great deal, actually. Thank you for telling me.”

“Lon’qu… I am sorry.” She knows the words mean nothing, but she still has to say them. They come from her heart; she is truly sorry that she’s hurt him like this.

He looks away, his jaw clenching, and releases her shoulder. “I know. But an apology isn’t enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this Chapter, and I hope you all enjoyed reading it! I sort of breezed over Lucina in this chapter, but don't worry, there will be a lot more from Lucina later. 
> 
> Next Chapter will be out in about a week. I'm going to try and fit in that Lon'qu/Robin intimate scene I've been talking about forever, but it really depends on how long the two scenes between here and there get. So next chapter, or the following, for sure! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think so far! I noticed today, I've got 35k of this story written so far (including snippets of several upcoming scenes) and this thing shows no sign of stopping... it's looking like at least 50k at this point.


	10. Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I have been swamped at work the last two weeks (and I got destroyed by one of my other fanfics last week, which set this one back a bit) but I’m back on track!

Chapter 9 – Decision

“Robin?” Chrom’s soft voice rouses her. Her elbow shifts on the desk, and her cheek, which was balanced on her raised fist, tips off. She nearly falls from the stool, and he catches her shoulder. She wipes at her mouth, mortified to find a little bit of drool seeping out.

He chuckles behind her as she sets her feet on the ground. His hand lingers on her elbow, his forearm pressed reassuringly against her back.

She looks over the maps and notes spread across the desk, and spots the quill, ink dried on its tip, dropped beside the trailed-off sentence. She had been in the middle of a thought, but it’s gone now.

“Were you… sleeping, like that?” he asks, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Robin can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks at his question, but she peeks out of her left eye at him. “Yes, I was.”

They’ve gotten to this comfortable touching stage incredibly fast, when she thinks that a month ago they hadn’t kissed in over two years. But it feels right to have his body pressed up against hers, even with Lon’qu on the back of her mind.

“You know, there’s a cot right _there,_ where you could be sleeping,” Chrom admonishes with a smile, pointing at the cot. He continues, on a slightly different vein, “How are you doing with everything, today?”

“Better.”

They are back in Regna Ferox, and far away from that place of nightmares. Robin’s head feels much clearer today, freed at last from the fogginess that coated her mind like a thick cloud after Validar’s attack. She hasn’t come to terms with the fact that she might be King Validar’s daughter, but at least today, she is Chrom’s Tactician first. Their army made the journey to Regna Ferox and is preparing for their first maritime excursion.

The Plegian boats have not shown up at the Harbor yet, but Robin thinks that Validar will keep his promise. He obviously wasn’t planning that they would escape with their leader alive. Chrom sent notice to the Plegians asking for the ships to be sent to the harbor.

“What about Lon’qu?” Chrom asks.

She winces, and reaches to close the ink well. She doesn’t know the answer to that question.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, and she draws in a deep breath.

“I am too,” she replies after a moment. Even though Chrom is the cause of this grief, Robin can’t find it in her to blame him. No, the blame for this falls on her shoulders. She could have handled it differently, and now she is stuck on the path she chose.

Robin ducks her head, surprised by the tears building up in her eyes. Blinking frantically a few times, she turns away. Her voice sounds hollow. "It's in his hands. I told him I have no intention of stopping."

“Are you… crying? Robin…” Chrom touches her in the center of her shoulders, and she looks up at him. He comes closer and wraps his arms around her. His scent buoys her, and she closes her eyes and rests her head against him.

His voice is soft, but rough at the same time. “If you don’t want to do this with me, anymore, I would understand.”

Robin tilts her head. One of his wet eyes turns down to look at her, and they share a moment of clarity. If they part now, there would be no hard feelings between them. She could still stay his Tactician, and they would go back to their painful separate lives. Unbidden, the memory of their first intimate night rushes back to her. _Let me make you happy, Robin._ She wants to think that being with her makes him happy, as well.

“I love you, Chrom, and I… don’t want to lose this.” She rubs her forehead gently against his neck, and he snakes his gloved hand into her hair. "Do _you_ want to stop?"

His answer is quick and instinctive, and his arms tighten. "Definitely not."

Something within her strengthens – that dainty metal chain, connecting her to Chrom. It had been lying slack, but they’ve pulled it taut again. It feels stronger than it did before.

“Good,” Robin says.

She wishes she could tell him why she turned him down, two years ago, but the timing isn’t right. She’s not ready to admit it to him.

He holds on to her for a few more moments, and then releases her just as she is aware that she wants him to.

Even two years ago, with the ragged loss of Emmeryn hovering over everything, they had been in sync. He could almost sense when she was running herself ragged, and make attempts to send her exhausted body to sleep, or provide nourishment when she missed a meal. In turn, Robin could tell by a glance when he needed her support, or if he desired an attentive ear to listen to his concerns and private worries. That synchronization had brought them closer, even as Robin had fought against that closeness. She was already in love with him before Emmeryn’s untimely end.

He smiles. “Do you need assistance in your prep work?”

Robin frowns, and studies the desk for a moment. “No, I’m waiting for those Plegian ships. Until I hear they’re on their way, I’m just getting organized.”

“Hmm.” Chrom leans over the maps for a few moments. An unpleasant thought crosses his face, and he looks back at her. “Sumia will be here to see us off tomorrow, and to meet Lucina.”

Robin nods, trying to keep her expression calm, for Chrom’s sake. She had been relieved to hear that Sumia would not be joining them on their journey to Valm. The thought of the woman she’s stealing Chrom away from doesn’t sit well in her mind. “How is Lucina, by the way?” Robin asks, directing the conversation from Sumia.

“I get the feeling she’s lonely. I mean, she loves spending time with me, but I think…” he trails off. “I have the feeling there were other children around her age, from the brief time I’ve spent with her. She misses her companions. ” Chrom shakes his head. “You should take the time to speak with her. You might learn something of what will happen.”

_I already have_ , Robin thinks, but instead says, “I will talk with her. It makes sense she would be lonely – we are all essentially strangers to her.” Deep down, Robin doesn’t really want to have a one-on-one conversation with Lucina, but she bites down the reaction. Lucina has done nothing wrong, and if Robin is afraid to learn what the future holds for her, then it is not Lucina’s fault.

That terrible future is built upon the past – Robin’s here and now. Robin prays that she’s done enough to prevent the future. She forces a smile.

Chrom kisses Robin’s cheek, his eyelashes pulled low over his blue eyes. She touches his hair, smoothing it across his forehead, and stands on her tip toes. He comes down to her, and his lips brush against hers -

“Robin?” A soft voice calls from outside of the tent. They break apart silently; Robin’s heart races so much she’s surprised Chrom can’t hear the frantic beating.

“Yes, Tharja?” Robin says.

The dark-haired mage pokes her head into the tent, and eyes Chrom for a moment. “Hello,” she greets him cautiously. “I’ll just come back later,” she says.

“No, it’s all right, Tharja,” Robin says. She knows the dark mage will probably just hover around behind the tent anyway. “I’ll talk with you later, Chrom. Send word if the ships appear in the harbor.”

“All right,” he replies, and Tharja steps into the tent, holding the flap for Chrom.

“Is everything all right?” Tharja asks after he leaves. “He seemed a bit upset.”

“Yes, it’s fine,” Robin says. All she can think is that if Tharja had shown up a minute later, she and Chrom would have been in a much more compromising position. She covers one of her cheeks as she feels blood rush to it. “Do you think our new recruit is trustworthy?”

Tharja scowls. “Henry is… a little strange.” Coming from Tharja, that is saying something. The dark mage continues, “But, he seems mostly harmless.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Robin smiles, but it quickly fades as she approaches the topic she wanted to address. “Tharja, I have some questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Mind? Of course not. Ask away.”

Robin sits on the bed and pats the mattress beside her. Tharja takes it literally and nearly sits in Robin’s lap, but Robin doesn’t have the heart to ask her to move over.

“They’re about Grima.”

“Oh.” Tharja’s eyes go wide. “I’m no Grimleal, but I’ll try and answer your questions.”

Robin draws in a deep breath, and quickly outlines what she’s learned – her potential father, the meeting with Validar and the Hierophant, and then his attack.

Tharja sits quietly, her pointer fingers steepled against her lips. She has her eyes closed, and Robin shifts on the bed.

“What are your questions?” Tharja asks, after a moment.

“Why does he want me to submit to Grima?” The question hangs between them for a moment, and the air in the tent seems heavier somehow.

Tharja looks up at her, and then motions to Robin’s right hand, where the six-eyed mark stares, unseeing. She usually keeps it hidden when she goes out, but here in her tent, the fingerless glove makes her hand sweaty, and it is difficult to grip a quill while wearing it.

Tharja says almost reverently, “You’ve been marked. Chosen from birth, the same as the exalted line.”

The same as Chrom, and his daughter Lucina.

“The same, but opposite,” Robin clarifies. The mark, set in purple, is dark against her skin.

Tharja nods. “Grima is the god of death and destruction, and Naga is the goddess of life and creation. One cannot exist without the other, but by their very natures, the deities want to end each other.”

Robin looks at the mage. “What do you believe, Tharja? If you aren’t a Grimleal?”

Tharja smiles. “I believe they can both exist in… well, harmony isn’t the right word. They _must_ exist together, or one must take on the other’s power, to keep the world in balance.” Her smile deepens, becomes a bit more sinister. “But, I draw my power from Grima’s side, so I suppose I do worship Grima. The Grimleal just take it too far.”

So, being a chosen bearer of the mark is just a symbol of the Fell Dragon’s blood running through her veins. She exhales and clenches her fist on her thigh, watching the symbol contort. It doesn’t mean what she was afraid it meant. That tightness in her chest eases a bit.

Robin can be marked by the Fell Dragon and still control her own destiny.

Chrom’s father waged a holy war against Plegia for years, murdering people like Tharja, who worshipped Grima but didn’t believe he should come back to life. He had the exalted mark, and was still able to choose those terrible things - it means that she can choose her own path.

_Unless…_ her thoughts darken.

“Can Validar control me, if I am his daughter?” Robin holds her breath and waits for the dark mage’s answer.

Tharja closes her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them, Robin sees the concern lingering there. “I’m sorry, Robin, but yes. If you share blood, it would be easy for him to take over.”

Robin looks at her shaking hands, and draws calming breaths. She didn’t imagine it, then. He _had_ been trying to take over. He nearly did. If Chrom hadn’t come along, she would have touched that great darkness. She shudders, and Tharja rubs her hand along Robin’s back.

“There are talismans that are supposed to keep others from interfering with your mind. I could make you one,” Tharja suggests. “But, I don’t know how effective they are.”

“I’ll try almost anything, if it would keep him out of my head.”

Tharja nodded. “I’ll need some of your hair.”

Robin isn’t afraid that Tharja would take the hair for her own purposes. She’s had plenty of opportunities to take Robin’s hair, in the two years since she had been recruited. Robin trained with her on elemental magic twice a month, back in Ylisse. She leans her head down, and Tharja carefully selects the hairs she wants, before plucking them out with a sharp pinch.

Robin recalls the glow of her mark, shining into the stillness of the night, and tries to reassure herself that it was just her imagination. Chrom’s mark has never, to her knowledge, glowed. But staring down at the mark, she’s not totally convinced that it is the same as Chrom’s symbol. There’s a weight to it, and it did burn when that Hierophant touched it.

Robin shudders, and puts it from her mind. Hopefully the talisman will help.

~*~

Lucina’s hands twist nervously as they watch the pegasi land. Beside her, Chrom feels her nervousness amplifying his own.

“Are you all right, Lucina?” Chrom asks her, setting his hand gently on her shoulder.

She jumps, and then looks at him, smiling. “Yes, I am fine. It is just…” She sighs. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” he tells her, although he could do with the pep-talk himself. “Were you nervous to talk with me?”

“At first, yes.” She looks down. “That’s partially why I hid my face and my eye with the mask.”

Sumia and her pegasus knight guards walk over, and Lucina draws in a deep breath. Chrom moves forward and hugs Sumia. He rests his hand on her stomach, smiling fondly at the presence of his second child, and then his smile fades as he sees the flower clutched in her hands, half of its petals gone.

Sumia looks at him, concerned. “I came as soon as I could, and left Lucina, as you requested. What was so urgent, you had to tell me in person?”

There’s a hint of suspicion in her bright eyes. “Good news, of a sort. I thought you should meet her, before we go across the ocean.” He turns behind him and gestures to Lucina, who steps forward shyly.

Sumia narrows her eyes at the girl. “Why have you brought me here to meet… her?” She turns those brown eyes onto Chrom, and then the flower falls from her fingers. “You’re leaving me, while I’m carrying your child?”

Chrom’s eyes fly open wide, and he catches Sumia’s hand. “No, of course not! This is going to be something of a shock, but I’ll just say it… this is our daughter, Lucina.”

Sumia stares at the young woman behind Chrom, dashing at tears in her eyes. “…What? I-I don’t understand.”

“Please, Sumia.” Lucina steps up to Chrom’s aid, bowing her head gently to Sumia, and then raising her eyes. “Look closely, and see for yourself.”

Sumia steps forward hesitantly, and then her eyes widen as she spots the brand in Lucina’s eye. “The brand!” Sumia exclaims.

Chrom nods. “The same brand carried by all House Ylisse’s bloodline.”

Sumia turns to Chrom. “I don’t understand. She’s only a few years younger than we are. How is this possible?”

“Naga sent me, from the future,” Lucina explains, “to try and prevent events that will lead to the end of humanity.”

Sumia’s eyes widen. “I… see. Are you really my daughter?”

Lucina smiles, and spreads her hands. “I am.”

“You grow up… to be so strong, and beautiful.” Sumia swipes at tears, and Chrom relaxes internally – Sumia has accepted it.

“Thank you, Sumia.”

“You don’t want to call me Mother?”

“I…” Lucina looks down, and Chrom can’t tell what’s going through her head. Perhaps it is just that Lucina has had interactions with Chrom over the years since she came back in time, and this is the first time she’s speaking with Sumia. “I thought you might mind. Your daughter is not yet one, am I correct?”

“Yes, but of course I don’t mind. Please, call me Mother.” Sumia moves to hug Lucina, and the young woman clings to her, her eyes filling with tears as she rests her head on Sumia’s shoulder. Eventually Sumia lets go, and Lucina backs up, rubbing at the tears on her cheeks.

Sumia turns to Chrom, and her eyes are softer, as she says, “I’m sorry I doubted you. I have heard… rumors, and my mind likes to run with wild theories, sometimes.”

Chrom smiles at her, although part of him is unsettled, both that she had heard rumors, and that he is essentially lying to her, by omission. “Don’t worry about it, Sumia. If you don’t mind, I have to see to the ships. I’ll catch up with you later, before you leave.” Sumia gives him a smile.

Who would spread rumors about him taking on a mistress? The two that know are Frederick and Lon’qu. Both are incredibly private people, and would not share such knowledge with anyone. Chrom sincerely doubts that anyone has seen him and Robin together. They have been careful.

“Well, Lucina, why don’t we go for a little walk, just the two of us?” Sumia suggests. “I will be returning to Ylisstol, and of course you’re welcome to come with me. I would love to hear about you and your life - that is, if it won’t mess up the future too badly for you to tell us about it. I’ve read a few books where…” Sumia captures Lucina’s arm and starts leading her away, and Chrom doesn’t catch the look that Lucina shoots his way.

Chrom’s thoughts have already wandered to the Plegian ships that docked in the harbor this morning. He wonders how Robin and Frederick are faring with provisioning all the vessels. Frederick’s animosity toward Robin has not cooled yet, and Chrom is worried he might have to run interference between the two. He walks along by himself, deep in thought – about the upcoming journey, about Sumia and their unborn child, about Robin…

He nearly walks right into Vaike.

"Heya, Chrom! Watch where you’re going!" The blonde man grins at Chrom, who forces a weak smile nonetheless.

“Sorry, Vaike. I’ve got a lot on my mind lately.”

“No worries, just can’t have you getting hurt before our big fight!”

Chrom narrows his eyes at Vaike. He’s almost afraid to ask, but he can’t just walk away. “What big fight?”

“Teach has to make sure you’re ready before we leave for Valm."

Chrom sighs, and continues walking. "Not now, Vaike. We need to prepare for leaving."

"What’s this? Is someone… chicken?" Vaike continues pestering Chrom as they walk across the field and toward the harbor. Chrom jumps as Vaike starts clucking at the top of his substantial lungs. “Ba-KAWK bawk bawk bawk-”

"Fine!” Chrom finally snaps, turning to Vaike. It’s all he can do to keep from shoving the man. “I will fight you and beat you down, if you'll just leave me alone right now! I'll meet you on the training ground in an hour."

"Looking forward to it, Chrom! Prepare to be defeated!"

Chrom waves him off and then pinches the bridge of his nose. The man is an able fighter, and one of Chrom’s first companions, but his obsession with sparring is often overwhelming. He supposes it is better to be passionate about fighting and improving oneself, than to be lazy.

With a sigh, he heads off to the harbor, where Robin and Frederick are acting strangely civil. Robin and Frederick are in agreement that tomorrow they will be ready to depart.

After spending almost an hour with them, he heaves a sigh and heads back to the Shepherds’ camp, intent on finding Vaike and getting it over with. It will do him good to fight, get in a little bit of stress relief, he thinks, and tries to prepare himself.

When he arrives at the practice field, though, he sees that Maribelle is treating Vaike, who looks dizzy and is clutching his head. He rushes to the fighter’s side.

“What happened?” he asks Maribelle.

She looks up at him, and sighs. “Vaike decided to take on Lon’qu, and lost. I’m afraid he won’t be in any condition to fight you today. The brute was actually knocked out.”

“I tripped,” Vaike says, but he lacks his usual cheer.

“No, you did not. Lon’qu took you out,” Maribelle says sternly, and tosses a dark glare at the man in the middle of the field.

Chrom notices him for the first time, and Lon’qu stares back unyielding. He looks angry.

Chrom stands up as the Assassin stalks over to him, and puts a hand in warning on Falchion. He’s had no interactions with Lon’qu since the attack on Carrion Isle, but the immensity of the problem between them is readily apparent, at least to Chrom.

“Since I just took out your sparring partner, my Lord, let’s fight,” Lon’qu says, and there is something in his dark eyes that promises a hard battle.

Chrom cannot and will not turn down this sparring match, although he has a feeling Robin will be angry when she hears about it.

Chrom knows this is about Robin. Lon’qu is attempting to assert his dominance over Chrom, but the prince will not back down. He wonders if Lon’qu intentionally took Vaike out of commission – Vaike loves to brag about his matches with Chrom, to anyone that will listen.

Drawing a deep breath and praying this isn’t a mistake, Chrom nods. “Okay, let’s fight.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was fun! I'm looking forward to writing this fight... Angry Lon'qu is awesome! This Chapter feels a little bigger than normal, at 3,600 words...  
> I swear that scene between Lon’qu/Robin is happening next time. It’s the very next scene… I just felt like I needed to address these things first. I don’t want to rush through the story.  
> I firmly believe that Robin would question her Father’s words to her, especially the “Give yourself to Grima” line. I hated how in game it seemed like Robin wasn’t comprehending Lucina’s warnings of the future, and the things Validar said, so I’m featuring them front and center in this version. Tharja was the easiest one to have Robin bounce her questions off of.  
> I realize the conversation with Vaike stole some lines from their C-Support – I’m assuming they’ve already had all three supports at this point, but I really liked some of the phrases.  
> On another note – I jumped ahead and wrote the scene where we meet Morgan… and it was a lot of fun. I’m so looking forward to it! (It’ll still be a few chapters away I think).  
> Next chapter up sometime next week. Thank you to all my readers, and please let me know what you think!


	11. Fight

Chapter 10 - Fight

The Plegian ships are large and quiet, and Robin can see their potential. The chill wind smells salty, and the boats creak in a somewhat terrifying way. Robin looks over the prow of the largest one, their flagship, at the fleet that is arrayed before her. Tomorrow they will depart from Port Ferox, and journey out over the sea. These ships, full of soldiers and supplies, will soon be at her command.

She shudders, and then looks from the ships back to her notes. She dips the quill in the small inkwell she’s brought with her onto the boat, set on the nearest flat surface.

“Robin, may I speak with you about something?” Frederick says, and Robin drops her quill from her suddenly shaking hand. She didn’t know he was right behind her.

“Of course,” she says. She turns and studies his face, as he leans down to collect the quill. He isn’t quite meeting her eye, and she braces for what she expects is another thinly-veiled criticism about her relationship with Chrom. She should really try to deal with Frederick, and come to an understanding before they depart, but she can’t figure out what to say to him about Chrom.

He hands her the quill, keeping his eyes down.

“What’s wrong, Frederick?”

He sighs. “I owe you an apology,” he says, and shifts from left to right.

“For what?” she asks. He stands close by so that they can speak without being overheard by any of the soldiers that are starting to load the boat.

“For how I have been treating you.” The tall knight frowns, and then meets her gaze steadily. Frederick does not say things lightly or jokingly, and Robin realizes he truly means it. “I have been serving Chrom for a long time, and he has told me things in confidence.” He frowns. “I know he originally proposed to you, before Sumia, two years ago, and you turned him down.”

Robin swallows, and looks down at her hand, gripping the railing. “That’s right, I did.”

“It is none of my business, but may I ask why?”

Robin closes her watery eyes, and the cold, salty wind provides a convenient excuse for her tears. Lon’qu is the only person she has ever admitted this aloud to, but suddenly she is filled with the desire to share it with Frederick. “I have… visions, of the future,” she admits, and watches his reaction. “They come in dreams, mostly, although sometimes I sense things when they are about to happen. Two years ago, when Chrom proposed… I knew if I married him… he would die, soon. So I turned him down to keep him safe.” She blinks a few times, clearing her eyes.

He is still and quiet for a few moments. The ship beneath them sways, and her stomach lurches. She grips the railing tighter, watching the thoughts move across his face. She doesn’t want approval from him, or pity. She only wants understanding that she did what she had to do to survive.

Frederick nods, and turns to her. “You truly do love him. Then, I am doubly sorry for being so harsh to you.” He inclines his head, and Robin gapes at him for a moment. She thought for sure he would ask about the visions, wonder what she had seen. He can be very skeptical, but this calm acceptance is also very much his way. She has passed some measure in his head. “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me my harshness.”

“I… yes,” she says. “I can’t really fault you for trying to keep him safe.”

He nods, and smiles. “I was sorry to hear you turned him down… I would have been honored to serve you as my queen.”

Robin winces, and looks away. He doesn’t know how much that thought hurts. Her hand flutters at her chest for a moment, and then grips the pen and the paper. “Shall we… continue with the inventory?”

“Ah, yes, of course.” He raises his own paper and they start comparing notes, and he does not comment on the tears gathering in her eyes.

~*~

Lon’qu’s heart races as he faces off against Chrom, looking at the man across their blades. He’s got his trusted Killing Edge pressed against Chrom’s Falchion. Falchion looks impressive, and his Killing Edge is a slender, unassuming blade, slightly curved. It has suited his style for years now, and Lon’qu is not so stupid as to switch to an unfamiliar blade today of all days, in the hope of proving something.

Vaike and Maribelle have stopped talking, and are watching the two combatants closely. There are other Shepherds around, and a crowd is gathering, but Lon’qu puts them all from his mind. The only person he cares about in this instant is Robin, and the only man he is paying attention to is Chrom.

The prince has a longer reach and a heavier blade, but Lon’qu is fast. Where Chrom’s focus has been on running his country over the past two years, Lon’qu has been training the new recruits to the Ylissean army. He is determined, but not overconfident.

He grips the well-worn hilt, feeling the braided leather beneath his calloused palms, and sets his stance. He meets Chrom’s eyes, and the fury that has coiled in his stomach since Robin admitted to it has finally found an outlet. He doesn’t expect to see the understanding in Chrom’s eyes, but there it is. The prince knows why Lon’qu is doing this.

Logically, Lon’qu knows he won’t stop Robin from going to Chrom, but fighting is nearly all he has. If he can’t deal with his problems in this manner, he’s going to explode.

“Ready?” Chrom asks, and Lon’qu grunts, and nods. Their blades scrape as they withdraw from the starting position, and Lon’qu leaps forward, toward Chrom. He catches the Killing Edge in a center guard, shifting it to the side. Falchion is a flash of light at Lon’qu’s left, and then it is his turn to block, as the sacred blade comes toward him.

Lon’qu dances back, and Chrom follows, taking the ground that Lon’qu is yielding. He launches into Chrom’s inner guard, making Falchion’s weight and heft a nuisance rather than an advantage.

“We don’t have to do this,” Chrom hisses at him, low so their watchers can’t hear.

Lon’qu glares at him and doesn’t give that a verbal response. He shoves Chrom back, plants his rear foot and then raises his blade to eye-level, parallel to the ground. Chrom takes a running leap and then Falchion is a spinning blur. Lon’qu dances around Chrom and slashes in as he passes on the left.

He hears Chrom grunt, and grins at the thought that he struck first. Chrom turns and shifts his right shoulder. The slash at his side is already bleeding, his navy shirt gapping around the wound. Chrom’s eyes narrow, and he finally looks at Lon’qu with something other than understanding.

Finally, Lon’qu has incited the prince’s anger. _Let the fight begin in earnest_ , he thinks.

With a low cry, Chrom spins toward Lon’qu. Their blades fly surely between them, the metal scraping and flashing in the sunlight as Lon’qu slowly cedes ground. An opportunity presents itself when Chrom closes, and Lon’qu catches his wrist and throws him to the side. Falchion flashes, and Chrom stumbles to one knee, his back toward Lon’qu for a brief moment.

Lon’qu rushes forward and raises his arms, and then his left arm aches. He sees a flash of red on his partially exposed bicep, but ignores it. With a shout, he brings down his blade, but Chrom scrambles out of the way. The prince backs up and Lon’qu lets him, panting with the efforts. He takes a quick glance at his arm, and frowns. It’s a deep slash, and he grunts as he looks up at Chrom.

“Lon’qu, that looks bad,” Chrom says, motioning to his arm. He keeps his guard up, though, wary of the look in Lon’qu’s eyes.

Lon’qu shakes his head, and raises his sword. The thought that this man was actually concerned about his well-being is too much. He shuts his eyes for a split second, and then snaps them open.

Chrom steps toward Lon’qu, a bit like he’s approaching a wounded animal, lowering his blade. “Why don’t we stop, for n-”

“Be silent!” Lon’qu shouts, and leaps toward Chrom.

~*~

“Robin?”

“Just a moment,” she says, and continues counting box weights under her breath. “Eighteen hundred, nineteen hundred-”

“It’s important,” Tharja says, panting. “Lon’qu and Chrom … are fighting.”

Robin’s thoughts scatter, and her heart starts beating frantically in her chest. The quill and makeshift notepad fall from her fingers, and she stares at Tharja. “No…” Horrible thoughts run through her mind, seeing first Lon’qu, and then Chrom, lying on the ground, bleeding out…

“What’s the matter, Robin?” Frederick calls from the other side of the cargo hold.  

“Come on,” Tharja hisses, and grabs Robin’s hand. “It looks serious. They’re using real blades.”

“Robin!” Frederick calls, but Robin can’t draw enough breath to speak. Tharja tugs on her, and she follows the dark mage. Tharja breaks into a run, her robes flowing behind her, and Robin matches her pace. She hears Frederick behind them, but doesn’t look back.

“What happened?” she asks Tharja, as their feet pound against the planks of the dock.

“I’m not sure,” Tharja responds, her dark hair getting in her eyes as she looks over at Robin. “I saw them getting ready for a spar, but Lon’qu… looked angry.”

As they move from the dock onto the grass, she hears the faint sound of steel hissing against steel. They’re still fighting, at least. _Please, Naga, don’t let them kill each other_.

She and Tharja split around a slow-moving soldier leading a horse, and the horse rears, frightened by the two women darting past. Robin realizes, in a distant corner of her mind, that Tharja thought to come for Robin, when she discovered the two men fighting. Tharja… knows about Robin and Chrom.

She shakes her head. There’s nothing she can do about that in this instant. She has to stop the fight, first.

There’s a crowd of mostly Shepherds gathered around the practice field, and she elbows Stahl accidentally as she shoves her way through. “Out of the way,” she snaps, and then she’s through.

She pauses for a moment, watching as Chrom leaps toward Lon’qu and catches him across the arm. Lon’qu grabs his wrist, throwing him off balance, and Chrom stumbles to one knee. Lon’qu raises his sword, not yet realizing he’d been struck. She sucks in a deep breath as she sees the gash.

Everyone around her is watching with lively anticipation, cheering for one man or the other. They don’t see what she sees in the set of Lon’qu’s mouth, the righteous fury in Chrom’s shoulders - her men are fighting as if for their lives.

 _This… is all about me_ , she realizes with horror.

“Robin,” Frederick breathes in her ear, his hand falling on her shoulder. “We have to stop this before it gets out of hand.”

But then Chrom stands still, and speaks low to Lon’qu. She can’t hear what he says over the rumble of the crowd, through the rushing in her ears. Chrom lowers his sword, gesturing.

With one look at Lon’qu’s eyes, Robin can see he’s gone to that lethal place. He’s aiming to kill.

She’s just run out of time.

“Be silent!” Lon’qu shouts, and readies himself to leap forward.

“Enough!” she cries, and throws herself between them. She closes her eyes, ready for the strike of the blade, but it doesn’t come. She opens her eyes and stares up at Lon’qu, who has frozen, wide-eyed. She exhales, and Lon’qu seems to return to himself, the rage draining from his face all at once.

“We’re done,” Lon’qu says, panting, and sheathes his sword. He shakes his head at her, and says in a low tone, “You idiot. I could have killed you.”

She winces at the tone in his voice, but at least they’ve stopped trading blows.

“Robin…” Chrom whispers behind her, and sheathes Falchion. “Are you okay?”

Suddenly she realizes it’s quiet, and the cheers have stopped. Her rush between the flashing blades scared some of the watchers. She can tell, for looking past Lon’qu’s shoulder, Nowi has her hands pressed to her mouth and looks ready to cry. Beside her, Cordelia has her eyes narrowed. Robin is grateful she doesn’t see Sumia, or Lucina, but she’s still made a big mess of this.

She looks over her shoulder at Chrom. Reaching deep inside, past her fast-beating heart, Robin pulls out some reserve of confidence, and speaks in a clear, level tone. The Shepherds watch her. “There will be no more sparring, until further notice. We need everyone to be as rested and healthy as possible. We’re departing tomorrow, on the Plegian warships.”

The Shepherds start talking all at once, and the odd ending to Chrom and Lon’qu’s sparring match is quickly overlooked in the frenzy of preparation. Or so Robin hopes. She fears that Lon’qu was the aggressor of this little match, and that he will bring all their dirty secrets out in the open, so she gives the Shepherds a distraction.

Robin is shaking with anger and fear as the gathered crowd starts to break up. Frederick moves to Chrom’s side and guides him away, although Robin can tell he wants to speak with her.

Lissa offers to heal Lon’qu’s wound, but he turns her away. _He’s so stubborn_ , Robin thinks, and a hot spike of anger runs through her.

Part of Robin wants to grab Lon’qu by the ear and haul him away, like a child. She settles for gripping his forearm.

“Come with me,” she says, and pulls him along behind her. He is silently stewing as well. Robin hopes if anyone sees the two of them, angry with each other, they will think it is just a lover’s spat, and that it has nothing to do with Chrom. She can’t control what the others think, though, and she forces it out of her head. If she worries about it now, she’s going to give in to that panic attack hovering on the edges of her consciousness…

Back in her prep tent, she sits him on her bed, and then locates her first aid kit to tend to his arm. It is deep enough that he should have let Lissa heal it.

He unbuttons his jacket and slips his wounded arm completely free of the sleeve. The pale skin of his torso glistens with sweat in the light of the candles. She thinks about what she wants to say to him, but everything just sounds wrong, like she’s chewing up glass and spitting it out at him.

Eventually her anger gets the best of her, and she just snaps, “What in the name of Naga were you thinking?”

“I don’t know!” Lon’qu snarls back, clenching his fists. “Vaike was bragging about finally getting a match with him and I just… snapped.” He watches her for a moment as she binds the bandage around his arm. “Are you really mad with me for being angry?”

“Of course!” She knots the gauze with a little more force than she should, and he winces. “Do you want everyone to know?”

He rocks back. “Of course not.”

She finds her own hands tightened into fists, and forces them open, holding them out toward him. “Then why did you challenge him?”

His anger fades suddenly, and he reaches out and brushes his fingers against her cheek. “I just saw red, and I wanted to… hurt him the way he hurt me.”

She exhales, slowly. “‘Hurt him the way he hurt you’… Lon’qu.” She reaches her hand up to touch his fingers at her face. “He’s not doing this to you, intentionally.”

“Intentional or not… Robin, I love you. I still love you, even knowing that you and he… It drives me crazy…” He trails off and rubs at his eyes with the long fingers of his other hand. When he looks back at her, his eyes are deep and intense. “You know me, I’m not good with words. I say things I shouldn’t. I have a temper. But this is what I mean: I’m still in love with you in spite of everything, and I know a part of you feels the same way about me.” He’s blushing, now, and she puts a hand to her own chest.

“Yes, I do,” she says, a tear running from one of her eyes.

He leans toward her. Her heart beats harder in her chest, and he grips her shoulders and kisses her. The intensity of it startles her, and she finds herself responding in kind. There is no hesitation, no softness to him right now. His body is hard, angry lines, and she runs her hands down those lines, stripping him the rest of the way out of his jacket. He groans against her mouth, and drags her closer.

His mouth trails hot kisses along her neck, pausing only to remove articles of clothing before resuming. As her shirt slithers off her body, she shivers with delight, and when his calloused hands press against her breasts, she cries out. His scent, sweaty and masculine, surrounds her as she buries her face against his neck.

He removes her pants and smallclothes with quick movements, still kissing her, and then reaches for his own pants. Robin finds herself pressed onto her stomach on the bed by his firm, commanding fingers. She peers back over her shoulder at him, and watches as he positions himself at her hips. His fingers run up her back, causing her to shiver and squirm, and then he lays on top of her and sheathes himself within her.

She cries out in pleasure, and he catches her hand, weaving his fingers between hers. He lays messy kisses on her shoulder, sweeping her hair from her neck. The welcome connection of all that skin overwhelms her, and she closes her eyes thankfully at the contact.

His strong, corded arms snake beneath her body and haul her to her hands and knees on the bed. As he plunges into her again and again, she feels tears of happiness leaking from her eyes. In that instant, the rest of the world steals away from her, and the only thing that matters is the two of them, and the passion between them.

His thrusts deepen and he rests his mouth beside her ear. His rough heated breathing in her ear only excites her further, and he surprises her by speaking.

“Robin. I love you.”

“Gods, Lon’qu. I love you too,” she replies breathily, and he pulls back on her hips. She doesn’t even have the time to think it is not a lie, for he’s thrusting up into that sweet spot now.

She muffles her cries with her hands as the waves of pleasure crash down and she feels the orgasm strike into her brain like a lightning bolt. Lon’qu falters and she grinds her hips back against him. He clings to her body as he spills his seed deep inside her. The afterpulses of pleasure run up her spine, and Lon’qu pulls her down onto her side, his face pressed against her neck.

They lie there nearly motionless, catching their breath, and Robin relaxes. Lon’qu’s arm around her body is tight, his fingers splayed along her stomach. Even though it is the middle of the day, and there is still a lot of work to be done, Robin can’t bring herself to leave this idyllic sanctuary. She drifts off, comforted by his breath against her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angry, possessive Lon’qu sex is hot - What can I say. (And for the record, Lon’qu won the fight.)
> 
> Edited to add: I commissioned some artwork from tiuanarui for this chapter, so please check it out: http://tiuanarui.tumblr.com/post/130575777900
> 
> The next chapter is probably going to take a little longer than usual… I had a bunch of stuff written out for it but I don’t think what I had set up will work, so I’m going to have to rethink the plot a bit. 
> 
> I appreciate your patience, and please let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	12. On the Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could feel a dose of really bad writer’s block for this story coming on shortly before I posted the previous chapter. I figured out most of what was causing it, and was able to work my way out of it. I’ve fleshed out a bunch more of the next section, so the updates shouldn’t take two weeks each. Some good (angsty) stuff coming in the next few chapters. Thank you to all my readers who have been patiently waiting!

Chapter 11 – On the Blue   
 

Chrom stands in the prow of the flagship as the harbor fades from sight behind them. He feels lighter, filled with purpose again; the last twenty-four hours had been inexplicably weighty.

He said goodbye to a teary-eyed Sumia hours earlier. Chrom had comforted her as best he could. She didn’t bring up the fight with Lon’qu, and neither did he. Chrom wasn’t even certain if she had heard of it, or seen it. She had only said, “Stay safe, Chrom, and the next time I see you, hopefully I’ll have given birth to a strong baby boy, for you.”

“Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter,” he’d responded, and kissed her cheek. “As long as both of you are safe and healthy.”

The wind blows into the sails, and they flap bright and crisp above his head. Beyond the white fabric the blue skies are nearly cloudless. The sun warms the planks beneath his feet, despite the chill ocean breeze.

It is a fine day to embark… and Chrom is in fine spirits.

Beside him, Frederick breathes deep, one wrist clasped in his other hand behind him. He looks so different without his armor, and his brown hair catches in the breeze. “Today is going smoothly, so far,” he informs Chrom with a rare smile. “The fleet will make good time before nightfall.”

“Good,” Chrom replies.

“However, our Tactician is not doing as well,” Frederick says, motioning with his chin. “She's been a little unsteady since we left port.”

Chrom’s good mood immediately sours as he spots Lon'qu and Robin, both standing near the railing in the center of the craft. In his mind's eye, he sees Robin leaping between them, Lon'qu's blade coming right toward her, in a desperate attempt to stop the fight. If Lon'qu had a slightly slower reaction time... As if sensing Chrom’s attention, Lon’qu looks up, past Robin, and glares at him.

Robin has been avoiding Chrom since the fight, and he isn’t certain what to make of it. It doesn’t help that he knows that she and Lon’qu… had some kind of reconciliation. Half of camp could hear them, according to Frederick. Chrom is grateful he was nowhere near their tent after the fight.

His fists tighten at his side. He has no right to this jealousy coiling sharp in his stomach, and yet he feels it. He loves her, and he wasn’t lying, back when they first started this affair, when he said that he wanted to make her happy.

But he’s also a little selfish, too. He wants to touch her again and again, to bring a smile to her face, to fall asleep with her in his arms, and the thought that he might not… is harsh.

There is a lot of space between Robin and Lon’qu – they don’t look much like reconciled lovers. The Assassin leans closer to Robin and they converse for a few moments, and then he heads below deck.

“Maybe you should go speak with her,” Frederick suggests. The tall knight flicks his eyes down to Chrom’s tight hands.

Chrom frowns. “I thought you didn’t want us to do this.”

Frederick turns back to the ocean, and then explains, “Robin and I had a little discussion.”

“It must have been some discussion,” Chrom says, narrowing his eyes at the normally-stubborn man. “You were dead-set against this.”

Frederick gives him a little smile. “I understand her reasons a bit better. She has your best interests at heart, despite the… situation. I won’t protest or question, should you decide to continue.”

Chrom looks back down the ship. Robin is frowning out at the sea, but he can’t tell if it is from her temporary queasiness or what Lon’qu just said. As much as he doesn’t want to feel it, hope still tightens in his chest. Chrom wants to be there for her.

That first night, in her prep room, he had said that she wasn’t happy, and had pledged to fix that. He had been right, then. Maybe being with Lon’qu isn’t going to be enough for Robin. Maybe… she still needs Chrom.

He hopes that is the case.

A pegasus flies in overhead, circling above the masts before picking an entry zone. As with every white pegasus he sees, Chrom expects to see brownish hair, and that easy smile. By the glint of silver armor and the red hair, it is Cordelia.

Cordelia lands behind Robin, who moves away from the railing to greet her. Chrom hears Cordelia’s soothing voice, but cannot distinguish the words. Robin smiles as Cordelia chuckles, and then both women turn toward Chrom as he approaches. Their easy, cheerful expressions dim nearly instantly, and Cordelia's cheeks flush scarlet.

Chrom falters, and Frederick moves ahead of him. Robin’s expression, he can understand, but Cordelia’s?

“It should be smooth sailing for a day or two, at least,” Cordelia explains, getting down to business. Cordelia and Cherche had both been trained in weather-watching before they left, at Robin’s request. “There don’t appear to be any strange formations yet.”

“Good,” Robin says, and winces as the ship rocks from port to starboard. Her already pale face goes even whiter, and Chrom folds his arms to keep from reaching out to her. Somehow, she continues speaking, her voice slightly clipped at the edges. “The Valmese fleet is out there somewhere. If you or Cherche spot them, come find one of us immediately.”

Cordelia nods, and mounts up again. “I’ll let Cherche know.” Robin retreats back to the side and covers her face with her hands, as Cordelia launches into the air again.

Frederick gestures from Chrom to Robin, and Chrom steels himself for some awkwardness.

“Robin, can we talk?” Chrom moves up beside her, as Frederick hangs back a couple of paces.

She flicks dark eyes toward him, but says nothing. A wave crashes against the hull and the ship dips to starboard. Robin’s knuckles are tight against the wooden rail.

“Are you all right?” he asks, and then clarifies, “Are _we_  all right?”

She looks at him, and a hollow smile brushes her lips. Her hand leaves the rail and touches his fist at his side. He immediately shakes out the tension and holds her fingers gently.

“I don’t know yet. I need some time to think this through.”

Chrom narrows his eyes, his heart racing faster. “What is there to think about?”

“Lon’qu nearly killed you. Maybe…” She lowers her voice and Chrom leans in. “Maybe this isn’t worth it.”

“Of course it is,” he replies, equally soft. “But only if this makes you happy. I just…” He peers around the ship, and, seeing only Frederick nearby, puts his hand on the back of her neck, beneath her trailing ponytail. He rubs his thumb against her neck, and she swallows. Her other hand slips up from the railing to touch his. “I just want to be with you.”

He lets go, and she squares her hips with the railing, her eyes staring off into the distance.

“So do I.” Her voice is quiet, so quiet he’s not certain at first that she spoke. She turns to look at him. “But I married Lon’qu.”

Chrom suddenly understands her dilemma, and why she’s been distancing herself from him. It is the same push and pull he felt when Sumia was nearby, yesterday. He never really put himself in Robin’s shoes, tried to imagine what it would feel like to go behind her husband’s back when he was close at hand. They have pledged vows to other people, and yet here they are, breaking those vows for passion. But Chrom knows this is what he wants.

“I understand,” he says. The indecision still feels like she’s stabbing him in the chest, but he knows she doesn’t do it spitefully. "Take as much time as you need." He smiles at her after a moment.

She gives a genuine smile back, and then the ship shifts up and sideways. She leans over the railing and loses what little remains of her lunch, and Chrom rubs his hand on her back in what he hopes is a comforting manner.

If he knows Robin at all, she will come to a decision soon. She is not indecisive, but she is thorough. She will think through her options, and pick the best one.

Chrom just prays that he’s on the heavier end of the scale when she does.

~*~

“ _This is it,” Chrom says, “Our final battle. You’re a Shepherd before you're his daughter, and no ‘destiny’ can change that.” He turns to her, grim confidence in his eyes, and grips her upper arm._

_She feels herself nodding. “We can do this,” she hears her own voice say._

_Together, they step up toward her father. Chrom leaps forward, slashing at Validar, and Robin follows at a distance, shooting magic at the sorcerer. He teleports around the room, keeping Robin and Chrom guessing._

Robin shifts on the bed, moaning, and half-wakes. Her eyes flicker open briefly, but the dream sucks her back under.

_She falls to the ground, body tingling with the effects of a powerful dark spell. Chrom rushes to her side and pulls her upright. She can hardly hear him over the throbbing of her own blood in her veins. “…he's gone, we did it,” he says, and leans in for a kiss._

_Suddenly Chrom jerks against her. His eyes fly open, disbelief on his face, and then a groan of pain escapes his lips. Robin knows her own eyes are wide, her hands are shaking. She raises one hand and sees it sparking – and then Chrom staggers back, a glowing blade of magic wedged deep within his torso._

_“No!” she screams – or tries to. Robin can’t move her own body, and she just stares at him. Harsh laughter runs through her, and she can only watch as he collapses._

_His last words are for her safety. “Promise me… you’ll escape from this place. Go…”_

Robin sits upright in her cabin, clutching at her head. She draws in deep sobbing breaths but can’t catch enough air. She huddles back into the corner of the wall and covers her eyes, but she still sees his pained expression pressed into the darkness. Eventually, she focuses on breathing, and forcefully blocks out everything else. Somehow she gets herself under control, although her limbs still quiver.

_No_ , she thinks to herself, hunched over on her bed. The ship seems to lurch beneath her. _No, this can’t be returning. I won’t kill him._

It has been over two years since she’s seen this vision.

This is no coincidence.

When she is able, she rises and exits the small cabin. She is grateful that she is alone, no Chrom or Lon’qu to ask questions and try to comfort her. This is too big for either man, although Lon’qu has heard some of it before.

Robin sits on a large wooden crate in the middle of the deck, and draws her knees up to her chest. The moon is bright and hangs low in the sky overhead, partially obscured by the rigging and the folded sails. The sounds of the ocean and the stillness surround her, and she lies back, struggling to relax. She tucks her hands into the opposite sleeves, and breathes deeply.

_"I'm still in love with you, in spite of everything."_  

Lon'qu's words have haunted her since she woke up alone in her tent, after they'd had sex. There has been no relief from the ache in her chest since then, and Lon'qu has returned to his stony aloofness, as he was before the fight with Chrom. 

_He knew I was in love with Chrom when he married me_ , she thinks, and raises an arm to swipe at the tears with her wide sleeve. That thought doesn't help. Lon'qu deserves a woman who will give him all her attention and love, not the leftover bits that Robin has to offer him. 

She can't look at Chrom without thinking of Lon'qu. And now, with this nightmare...

Maybe- 

There is a loud noise nearby, and Robin sits upright, her thoughts scattered.

Someone gasps, and Robin squints as the moonlight reveals a slender form nearby.

“Robin?” 

That voice, she has been dreading.

“Hello, Lucina,” Robin responds. Her stomach clenches uncomfortably, and it's not seasickness this time.

Lucina moves closer and Robin pats the large crate beside her, motioning for Lucina to take a seat.

“Are you still feeling nauseous?” Lucina asks, sitting beside Robin.

“On and off, yes,” Robin replies. She isn't ready to mention the real reason she's awake to the stern young woman. Lucina is more than a little intimidating, especially when she has that look in her eye. “Is that why you're awake, as well?”

Lucina shakes her head, and looks down. “Too many thoughts running through my mind.” She swings her thin legs against the crate, and her heels thump softly.

Chrom had asked Robin to speak with Lucina a few days ago. She has been avoiding this conversation for a while, but maybe it is time. Lucina told them she returned to save Chrom’s life.

“Thoughts… about the future?” With a dry mouth, she squeaks out the question.

Lucina’s eyes darken. “Yes, about the future. You know, in my time, all ships were destroyed. What was left of humanity spent most of the time together, holding Ylisstol at first, and then Mount Prism when Ylisstol… fell.” She looks down and runs her fingers gently along the hilt at her side. Chrom’s sword, passed on to Lucina from her dead father.

Robin’s eyes unexpectedly fill with tears as she tries to imagine a future where the world as she knows it has been utterly destroyed. “That… must have been so hard for you to live through,” she suggests.

“It was a… hell on earth,” Lucina says, haltingly, and her eyes and her jaw are hard now. “I refuse to allow it to happen again."

They sit in silence for a few moments, and then Lucina says, "I trust you recall our previous conversation, back when I saved Father and the exalt Emmeryn from those assassins.”

Robin freezes, and then forces her body to relax. Lucina cannot know the nightmare she just woke up from. There’s no way this girl knows that she just killed Chrom in her dreams. But that thought isn’t as certain as it should be, here beneath the night sky.

When she finally does respond, Robin’s voice is breathy. “Yes, I remember very clearly.”

With a sigh, Lucina leans back on her elbows. Her mouth twists slightly. “It appears you have recently taken up… an understanding, with my father.”

Robin feels blood rush to her cheeks, and blinks a few times. “I don’t understand.”

The girl turns her head directly toward Robin and says, “You’re always lurking around him. It’s almost as if the two of you are… lovers.”

She knows. Those eyes, that watched the destruction of her whole world, stare into Robin, almost daring her to lie.

Robin nods. “We are.” After a moment’s contemplation, she continues, “As of a few weeks ago, anyway.”

Lucina blinks. “Thank you for your honesty.” After a long pause, she reaches out and taps at Robin's left hand, where Lon'qu's ring sits. “I think… you’ve done enough to save him.”

Relief floods Robin, and she draws in a deep breath. She looks at the ring on her finger, woven silver strands. It is not Chrom’s ring, and perhaps the death she has seen in her sleep is a warning, rather than the future.

Echoing her thoughts, Lucina continues, “But we must remain vigilant." She motions between herself and Robin. " _We_ have to ensure that Father lives. I won’t lose my parents again.”

A heavy weight settles on Robin's shoulders, but she nods solemnly. “I will do everything in my power to keep him safe. You have my word.”

Lucina wipes delicate fingers at her cheeks. They come away wet. “Thank you, Robin.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel really bad for Robin, and the next chapter’s going to be worse, I can feel it. I made some last minute changes to this chapter when I realized what was coming. (And now I’m going to go work on Bound Together… I’m probably going to be crying into my laptop by the end of the night. I don’t know why these two stories are killing me this weekend.) 
> 
> Chrom... is kind of oblivious, I've come to realize. :) I enjoy writing his scenes now because he's so clueless. And yes, I mashed up about 3 Supports and one "cut-scene" dialogue to come up with the Lucina/Robin scene. :) 
> 
> If anyone’s interested, I’ll be updating my AO3 profile regularly with estimate dates for when the next chapter for my multi-fics will be out. Next update for this story will probably be out before September. 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! (A special shout-out to all of my readers who have left me messages about this story... it means a great deal to me to hear any kind of feedback!)


	13. Chapter 12 - Where We Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you’re aware, there’s a conversation with Basilio in this chapter and I really don’t think I’ve got his speech patterns at all right… but I don’t have the patience to go dig up all the clips of him. So please bear with my slightly out of character Basilio.

Chapter 12 – Where We Stand

 

Lon’qu watches from the doorway as Robin studies her maps, tracking coordinates with a compass and a pencil. She looks worn and unhappy; he can tell by the slump in her shoulders. Beyond the small round portal above her desk, the sun is nearly setting, tinting the desk orange where the light falls.

He doesn’t know if she’s been sleeping regularly, or if she’s gone back to her old nighttime habits. Lon’qu used to pay attention to these things, but over the past month, he hasn’t noticed. Since the Valmese threat was first discovered he’d lost track.

His fingers grip at the wooden doorjamb as the ship creaks around them.

Thoughts and emotions swirl through his head until he’s certain Robin should sense them like a dark cloud behind her, but she is oblivious to his presence. He wants to go to her and kiss her, or grab her shoulders and shake some sense into her. He wishes they would just get into a screaming match, but he also wants to give her the silent treatment until she begs him to speak to her.

This whirlwind of feelings swept in when he awoke beside Robin, after nearly killing Chrom. He had been an idiot, thinking that a sparring match could possibly fix all his problems.

And then, he had to go and have sex with her. He doesn’t regret it, but he wishes it hadn’t happened, all the same. He left her tent shortly after awakening that afternoon, and he’d endured Vaike and Sully’s rowdy comments with a red face. If anything, their activities kept Robin and Chrom’s relationship secret. Anyone could tell from the loud display – a flush stings his cheeks as he recalls Robin’s heated cries – what they were doing. Their current situation could be a lovers’ spat, easily explained away.

Except it is not that easy for Lon’qu to convince himself that everything will be fine.

“Robin,” he says.

She jumps, and looks up over her shoulder.

“Hi, Lon’qu,” she says, and gives him a weak smile.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

She nods. “Somewhat. I’m never going to be a sailor.”

He gives her a weak smile for the weak joke, and then gets to the matter he wants to discuss. Robin knows he is not one for social niceties or idle banter.

“We should talk,” he says, and clears his throat.

“Yes, we should.” Robin tucks her hair behind her ear, and swivels to face him. With a welcoming hand, she gestures him to the second stool.

He closes the door, breathes deep, and goes to sit beside her. In another lifetime, he would have offered her a massage, but he fears that touching her will loosen his resolve.

“I am still not sure where we stand,” Lon’qu begins.

Her eyelashes shade her eyes partially. “I think I know,” she responds. “You are upset with me, and you have every right to be.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says, and reaches out to take one of her cold hands.

She grips back with a small smile. “It’s nice of you to say that, but we both know that isn’t true. You should be mad with me, and if you’re not, then you’re lying to yourself.”  She looks down at their clasped hands. “I made the choice, Lon’qu. He didn’t force himself on me. I went to him.”

Her words hurt him, and he smooths down his jacket to give himself time to think. Maybe… she’s right. He was just thinking about how he wanted to get into a screaming match with her, or shake her.

“I am… angry.” As soon as he admits it, he realizes he doesn’t want to feel that way anymore. What’s done is done… but can he really move on, past it?

He remembers when she admitted to it, she said she didn’t want to stop seeing Chrom. His other hand, the one not holding hers, clenches into a fist.

“After the… fight,” she says, but Lon’qu knows she is dancing around what she really wants to say, “I realized that… I want to be with both of you.”

He winces as if she’s stabbed him, and pulls his hand back. He had been expecting this.

She holds up a hand and hurriedly continues, “I know that’s unreasonable. So… I’ve put some thought into it, and I’m going to stop seeing Chrom.”

“What?” Lon’qu can hardly believe his ears. This decision has come out of the blue. “But… you love him!”

Immediately, he wonders why he is protesting this. This is exactly what he wants.

She cringes, and looks down, twisting her fingers. “I know. But… I pledged myself to you.” She raises those dark eyes to him, filled with tears. “I married you. So I’m calling it off with Chrom.”

“You are giving him up out of _duty_?” Lon’qu says, and his jaw clenches. “Robin-” He rises and grips her upper arms – the urge to shake her is almost overwhelming, but he resists. “If you love me and you want to stop because it’s _wrong_ and hurtful, that’s one thing. But to say you’re doing it because you’re married to me…” He shakes his head. “That’s almost worse.”

“I do love you,” she protests.

“ _Listen_ to me,” he growls. He moves closer to her, his thigh bumping the inside of her knee. He places his hands on her cheeks and tilts her face up toward him. “This is not the same thing. Just be with Chrom, and I’ll step back.”

Her eyebrows crinkle, and she looks even more distraught. “But-”

“Hush,” he snaps. “I’m giving you what you want, alright? Isn’t this what you want?”

“No, it’s not!” Finally, that defeated look is gone. Robin grips one of his wrists, and anger snaps in her eyes. “I want both of you, I told you – mmph!”

Lon’qu presses his mouth against hers, silencing her protests. His body burns with anger, hot like the sun, and he focuses that energy into her soft mouth, that willing tongue. He groans as she catches his bottom lip with teeth, gently sucking at him.

When he pulls back from the kiss, she stares at him, finally speechless. Her hands cling to his forearms as if she’s going to fall from the stool, otherwise. They pant softly for a few moments and his fingers trail down from her cheeks to her shoulders.

 _Can I do this?_   He wonders. _Can I_ _be with her, and let her be with Chrom, too?_

A terrible mental image of Chrom kissing her surfaces. Even though he’s never seen them kissing, Lon’qu still flinches against it. “Don’t ask me to do this, Robin.”

She continues to stare, lips parted.

“I don’t want to share,” he finishes, and she closes her mouth finally.

“I… see.” She drops her hands, and he catches one of them, feels his cold ring on her finger.

He slowly removes his hand from hers, knowing if he doesn’t, he’s going to move close again. He can’t do it - he won’t do it. He’s making a stand, here and now.

 _I don’t want to share_ , he’d said, and it is not a lie.  

~*~

He’s trapped on this damn ship, and there’s Chrom, standing in the prow again. His presence is infuriating to Lon’qu, but he couldn’t stay in his claustrophobic cabin one more moment. The sunset casts the ship in orange and red.

Lon’qu paces the length of the vessel, hands clasped behind his back. The conversation with Robin keeps racing through his head, punctuated by how good it felt to kiss her, and underlined by awful thoughts of Chrom having his way with her.

Maybe he should go and try to have a civil conversation with Chrom, rather than being equal parts mortified and furious whenever he’s around.

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he balks. He’s not good with words, and approaching him for a serious conversation would probably involve an apology… Lon’qu shakes his head. No, he’s not ready for that. Apologizing to Chrom would mean that he’s forgiven Chrom for what happened… and he doesn’t want to. In a way, he’s not sorry that he almost killed the man, even though logically he knows what a terrible thought that is.

He’s staring now, and Chrom notices. There is no aggression, no fear in the prince’s gaze – just concern, and perhaps some wariness. Lon’qu looks down and busies himself with adjusting his belts. _Don’t you dare come down here,_ he thinks at Chrom.

Lon’qu is so intent on adjusting his clothing that he nearly runs into Cordelia. She stumbles backwards with a cry, and he catches her elbow instinctively. The metal armor she wears is cold against his bare hands. He releases her as soon as she has her feet beneath her.

“Excuse me,” he hisses, a cold sweat running down his spine at her proximity.

“Lon’qu?” Cordelia asks. “What’s the matter?”

“Perfect,” he mutters under his breath. Another pesky woman trying to help him with his gynophobia. He recalls the failed fencing lessons she’d asked him for, a number of months ago.

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

Her eyes narrow, probably in response to his own scowl.

But then he remembers that she is a Pegasus Knight. A way out. And he’d rather ask her for help than Cherche, who keeps trying to talk about things from his past he would rather not bring up.

He looks intently at her and asks, “Will you take me to the Feroxi ship, to Basilio?”

After a moment, Cordelia nods. “Of course I’ll take you… but, you do know you can request transport anytime, right?”

Lon’qu frowns. “What?”

“You could just sign up on the roster. Cherche and I will move anyone around between the ships.” She points up toward where Chrom is standing, and Lon’qu holds back another scowl. “There’s a sheet up there.”

“Thank you,” he says, struggling to be polite.

She leads him back to her Pegasus and mounts up, then offers him a hand. He grips her hand. It is warm, for her armored gauntlets leave the palms and underside of the fingers uncovered. He adjusts himself on the passenger pad, and grits his teeth as he holds onto her hips. She adjusts his arms around her a little tighter, and he leans his head away from her as much as he can.

He spots Chrom walking down the ship, and stifles an angry sound in his throat.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Cordelia calls back to him, leaning back so he can hear her better. Her red eyes still look concerned as she follows his eyes, and a flush rises on her cheeks. It is no secret, at least to Lon’qu, that Cordelia is in love with Chrom, but seeing the look in her eyes makes him feel even sicker than touching her does.

“Yes,” he says back, “It’s nothing. Can we just go, now?”

“All right. Hold on!” She clicks her tongue at the Pegasus, which spreads its great wings. They are so much larger than the horse-like body, and Lon’qu tightens his hold and leans into Cordelia as the wings flap once, twice, and then on the third sweep they are airborne.

Her hair whips out behind her, in his face, and he ducks and shields his eyes.

He’s been on Pegasus-back before, a few times, mostly during the heat of battle. Despite having to touch Cordelia, which is uncomfortable, he likes being up in the air. The Pegasus wheels in a tight spiral and steadily rises, punctuated by a drop as the wings release the air and pump back upward.

Lon’qu breathes in the salty sea air and, inadvertently, the floral scent of Cordelia’s hair, and tries to relax. He’s almost calm when Cordelia lands them safely on the selected vessel. In spite of himself, when he dismounts, he is smiling. It feels so much better to be away from Robin, and Chrom.

Cordelia comes down beside him, and he turns to her. “Thank you for the ride.”

She looks surprised, and her face softens. “You’re welcome. Anytime, Lon’qu. I’ll be back later tonight, in case you want a ride back.”

“Thank you,” he says, and bows his head to her. After a moment’s hesitation, she mounts back up. Lon’qu watches for a moment, hand up to block the wind from his eyes, as her Pegasus pumps its wings. When she is gone, he looks over the Feroxi-manned ship.

Despite the years passed, he sees many familiar faces among the Feroxi, and almost immediately feels better in their presence. He lived with them, and was Basilio’s second-in-command, for a number of years, and they greet him accordingly.

It is easy enough to locate Basilio and Flavia on the vessel. Lon’qu can hear Basilio’s booming voice from near across the deck.

The two khans greet him enthusiastically, and when he asks to speak with Basilio privately, the man hastily agrees. They go down to Basilio’s cabin, which is slightly larger than Robin’s, and features a bigger window with actual panes of thick glass.

“What’s troubling you, Lon’qu?” Basilio asks in his heavy voice, moving to the small table beside the window.

“You can’t repeat this to anyone,” Lon’qu says, looking at his one-time khan and friend. He probably shouldn’t be telling Basilio about it, but if he doesn’t speak of it with someone, he’s going to explode.

Basilio’s near-constant smile fades. “This sounds serious.” The tall dark-skinned man grabs two thick tumblers and pours a dark liquid into them.

Lon’qu protests, holding a hand up. “None for me, Basilio.”

Basilio shakes his head, and fills the second glass partway. “You can’t see the dread look on your face. You need to relax, Lon’qu, and I have a feeling this conversation ain’t going to be an easy one.”

Lon’qu grimaces, but he values Basilio’s opinion. It will probably be all right to have a shot or two, and Basilio is correct – it is an uncomfortable conversation to have sober. “Fine… but don’t let me leave this boat impaired.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that request, although never from you,” Basilio says with a nod, and scoots the glass over.

With trembling hands, Lon’qu accepts it. The liquid shines in the lantern light and Lon’qu hesitates a moment, then tosses it back. The burn runs through his nose and throat, and he fights back a cough. It is whiskey, as he suspected.

They sit in relative silence for a few minutes, just long enough for the liquor to start kicking in. Lon’qu doesn’t drink normally, and his head clears slightly before a foggy haze rolls in. Basilio refills his glass once, and he drinks it down, numbly.

Basilio clears his throat. “Well, what’s troubling you?”

“Robin.” He sighs, and spins the empty glass, scraping along the worn table. “She’s… having an affair.” The words are sharp and dangerous when they leave his mouth.

“Gods, Lon’qu,” Basilio says with a frown. “That’s terrible.”

“I know,” Lon’qu says.

“Do you know with whom?”

Lon’qu hesitates. “I don’t think I should say.”

“Are you certain she’s actually-”

“Yes, she told me herself,” he interrupts, and thumps the glass on the table. He really wants to throw it, but he doesn’t think he can stop, if he starts breaking things. Basilio refills the glass, and Lon’qu glares down into it.

“I’m… angry.”

“As you should be.” Basilio’s voice booms out, and Lon’qu raises his head.

“But I still love her. She offered to stop the affair, but...” He sips at the drink and exhales as it burns his throat.

Basilio sits in silence for a few moments, and it is only after Lon’qu finishes the third glass that he feels brave enough to look up at his companion. Basilio is frowning.

“This is a tough situation. You said she offered to stop, and yet you are here.”

“I want her to be happy.” Lon’qu spins the glass. “She still loves him, and I can see she loves me too.”

“Obviously she loves you, if she’s willing to stop.”

“That’s not the point.” Lon’qu looks up. “I don’t want her to stop. I feel like I should leave, and let them have their space.”

“Then do what you think is right.”

Lon’qu clunks his elbows on the table and runs his hands through his hair. “That’s just it. I don’t know what is right. Part of me is so angry with both of them. And part of me is angry with myself… I knew this could happen, and I stayed silent until it did. In a way, I caused this.” He tugs on his hair, sharply. “I deserve this,” he whispers.

“You did not cause it, and you sure as hell don’t deserve it,” Basilio says strongly, and grips his shoulder. “Don’t you dare think that. This is on Robin, not on you. You were not the one sneaking around – you were loyal.”

Lon’qu drops his hands to the table, and looks up at his one-time liege, his friend. “You’re right, as usual. I just don’t know what to do.”

“You’re welcome to stay here with us, as long as necessary, until you figure it out.”

“Thank you,” Lon’qu says, nodding.

“I will say one thing about this subject.” Basilio exhales gustily, nostrils flaring. “I think, for sanity’s sake, you should make a decision on how you want to deal with this before we make landfall. We’re going to war, and Robin is our tactician. Even though she put herself in this position, we need her steady and mentally prepared.”

“That gives me a few days,” Lon’qu says with a nod. The cabin is swimming around him, and he narrows his eyes at Basilio. “I can do that.”

“Good,” Basilio says, and thumps him on the back as he’s raising the glass for another sip. The liquor splashes onto his hand and the table, and he scowls.

“Now I’m going to smell like a drunk,” he curses.

“Don’t worry, at dinner no one will be able to tell.” Basilio grins, and drinks down his glass. “Let’s go have some fun, for a change.”

~*~

Robin closes the door after Lon’qu leaves, and leans back against it. She slides down the door and crouches, her heart beating hard against her ribcage like it wants out. Water splashes against the hull outside, and even though she’s in one of the upper cabins, she feels trapped for a moment, stuck between the water and the walls. Her fingernails dig into the wood of the floor, and she forces herself to relax.

 _That went about as well as I expected,_ she thinks, breathing deep.

She was expecting Lon’qu to be relieved that she was calling it off with Chrom. Instead, he was upset, and she doesn’t think he really understands what he wants, himself. _If he really didn’t want to share, why did he kiss me, after telling me to go with Chrom? That was no good-bye kiss._

Perhaps she should have told Lon’qu about the dream where she killed Chrom. A shiver runs down her spine.

She had made up her mind, organized her thoughts, and with one kiss Lon’qu scattered them, so that her decision lies in pieces around her.

The boat lurches, and she puts her hand to her stomach. She is grateful when the feeling subsides momentarily. She’s been able to keep her food down today, and doesn’t want to change that.

There’s a soft knock on the door behind her, and she rises. It’s Tharja.

The dark mage has a small package in her hands, and she greets Robin with her signature smile. “Is this a bad time?”

Robin steps back. “No, please, come in.”

Tharja takes the stool that Lon’qu so recently occupied as Robin clears a spot on the desk for her little package. She unfolds the cloth and reveals two items. The first, and more easily identifiable, is a thin, beaded bracelet, with a black feather tied to it. The second is an intricate knot pattern, woven of gossamer black strands. Robin shudders as she sees the pattern of Grima’s mark woven into the knots.

Robin curiously puts her right hand out toward the two objects. As she gets closer, her hand feels warmer, and the mark starts glowing. She gasps, and yanks her hand back.

“Tharja,” she says, backing up and looking at the dark mage.

Tharja nods. “Good, you sense them too. I wasn’t sure if you would. Go ahead, touch them. I want to see how they react.”

For the first time since asking for Tharja’s help, Robin feels a little uncertain. “Are these… dark magic?”

“Of course they are,” Tharja says, giving her a look. “You wouldn’t counter dark magic with elemental, would you?” The question sounds rhetorical, but Robin doesn’t know the answer.

She swallows nervously, and looks at Tharja for one more moment. Tharja has never done anything intentional to harm her. Robin trusts her with the information about her father, and Tharja knows about Chrom… She can trust her in this, as well.

Robin puts a finger on the knotted design first. Warmth runs up her arm, feeling almost like ink, dark and soft. She picks it up, and it catches the light from the window, reflecting in dark, sparkling colors.

“Oh,” she whispers, almost reverently. She breaks her eyes away from it, and looks at Tharja hovering just at her elbow. Tharja is almost too close, but Robin tries to ignore it. The dark mage grins with delight.

“Good, I’m glad it’s responding. We could try out some dark magic on it, see what happens,” Tharja says, tapping at her lips with a finger.

“No, no dark magic here on the ocean,” Robin says, her heart beating faster. “Let’s wait until we make landfall to test it out.”

Tharja crinkles her nose, but agrees. “As you wish.”

Robin turns to the bracelet, and sets the knotted piece down.

“The bracelet has a constant magic on it,” Tharja explains as she ties it to Robin’s wrist. It doesn’t glow as brightly as the talisman when it touches Robin’s skin. “It should be able to deflect any magic trying to alter your mind, or control your body. The other one is extra, for if the bracelet gets overloaded.”

Robin nods, watching curiously as the feather on the bracelet glitters with dark colors, as if someone took a rainbow and but a black film over it. The knotted piece, Robin secures in an inner pocket of her cloak, easily accessible.

A soft knock at the open door startles her.

“Robin?”

She spins toward Chrom, and his sudden appearance causes her heart to race. She recalls the decision that Lon’qu dashed to pieces. She had been so set on letting him go, but now that he’s here…

She licks her lips, and tries to smile.

“What are you working on?” Chrom comes closer, and Tharja gives him a calculating look.

“It’s protection, against my Father,” Robin says, quietly. Her left hand goes to her wrist, where the feather hangs, tickling the sensitive skin. “In case he tries to take over again.”

Chrom narrows his eyes. “Will it work?”

“I believe so, but there’s only one way to be certain,” Tharja tells him with an elegant shrug. “If her father shows up again, then it protects her, or it doesn’t.”

“Thank you, Tharja,” Robin says, and means it. She grips the mage’s hand and smiles at her. It is one less thing to worry about, if the talismans truly work. “I really think these have a chance.”

Tharja smiles. “Of course, Robin. Anytime.” And with a curious look at Chrom, Tharja takes her leave. She closes the cabin door behind her.

In spite of the fact Robin’s been intimate with Chrom several times before this, being alone in her cabin with him makes her face warm. She fidgets with the feather for a few moments, and then looks up at him.

He leans his elbows on the table, his blue eyes calm. She can recall every touch of his skin, their heated interactions behind closed doors. The silence is both awkward and comfortable, a promise of things to come and a symbol of where they have been. She reaches out and touches his forearm.

“We should talk,” she says, her mouth dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really hard, despite knowing where I was headed. Next chapter I think the “plot” will get going again.  
> Wow, 4,000+ hits, and 175+ Kudos! Thank you all for being so supportive of this story, and for coming back chapter after chapter! I really hope I don’t disappoint…  
> I know in previous notes, I’d mentioned I hope to update this once a week – in light of everything else I’ve got going on, I don’t think that will be feasible. I’m aiming for one chapter every two weeks, or sooner if I can get it. I apologize for the delay between chapters but I just can’t commit to more than that… when it starts giving me anxiety I know I’ve got too much pressure on, and writing fanfiction should be fun!  
> I don’t usually have soundtracks for this story, but for this chapter in particular I was repeating “Love Love Love” by Of Monsters and Men, and “Just Give Me a Reason” by Pink. They both seemed to fit this chapter really well.  
> As always, thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think! :)


	14. Decisions and Strategy

Chapter 13 – Decisions and Strategy

“We should talk.” The words coming from Robin’s mouth strike Chrom forcibly, and he winces.

This is it. She’s made her decision… and he has a feeling those scales are being tipped away from him, after all.

Robin’s hand strokes the curling corner of the map, and it crinkles in protest.

The silence between them stretches too long, and he asks, “Robin… Are we done?”

A tear slips down her cheek. She nods, slowly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, eyes down. “It’s for the best… for everyone. Lon’qu, Sumia… and Lucina.”

He thinks about that for a moment. In a way, she’s right. Sumia and Lucina certainly deserve a better husband, a better father. But he can’t help himself.

“What about what we want?” he asks, and reaches out to still her hand.

She flinches hard at his touch, and he lets go. “It’s not that simple,” she says, shaking her head.

“Robin,” he says, gently. “I just want both of us to be happy.”

She chokes out a bitter laugh. “I can’t be happy, it seems.”

Chrom sits in stunned silence, bothered by the pain in her voice. He’d thought he was prepared for whatever decision she made, but the truth is, he’s not. Despite knowing that she isn’t choosing this path lightly, he still feels it’s the wrong choice.

She hunches her shoulders, and Chrom has to sit on his hands to keep from reaching for her again, to comfort her. There’s something more to this, something that she’s not saying.

“Is this what you want?” he prods, gently.

Her mouth twists. “I – yes, I suppose.”

“You suppose? Chrom demands, and his stomach tightens. “Gods, Robin, you don’t sound confident at all.”

Her eyes go wide, and she stares at him.

“What did Lon’qu say to you?” He can’t help but think this is her husband’s fault, somehow. He watched Lon’qu get on a Pegasus with Cordelia – a woman. He was escaping from Robin, of that Chrom is certain.

“It’s not about what Lon’qu said,” she replies, dismissing that thought with a wave. “He didn’t force my hand. I already decided this before I spoke with him.”

“Then why?” Chrom’s voice has gone soft, and his fist sits tight against his knee. She doesn’t respond, and he hears something in her silence, in what she doesn’t say. “Robin, why did you turn me down two years ago… and why you are turning me down now?”

“I told you why I wouldn’t marry you,” she says, and he can tell she’s skirting around an answer.

“No, that can’t be it.” He furrows his brow. “You told me you had already accepted Lon’qu’s proposal, but it never sat right with me. Tell me the real reason.”

She sighs, and meets his gaze. “You know that I get brief glimpses of the future, sometimes.”

He nods; her ability to predict events on the battlefield has been well-used over the years.

“I have also seen visions, not on the battlefield… where I will kill you.”

He blinks. This was not what he had expected, at all. “What? You would never harm me.” He knows with every fiber of his being – she would never do such a thing.

Robin rises and starts pacing. “In the dream, I am like a puppet - someone else is pulling the strings.” She comes closer, and as her right hand moves toward him, he sees the purple mark on her skin. “I always strike you, here,” she says, and makes a stabbing motion. Her fingers open, and she taps at the spot right where his ribcage ends, in the center of his torso. Chrom draws in a breath, watching as she steps away again.

With her back toward him, she continues, “Two years ago, I started seeing myself kill you in my dreams – it grew clearer and clearer as time went on. I turned you down to save you from myself… and the visions stopped.”

That explains why she rejected him two years ago, Chrom thinks, but it doesn’t explain…

“Oh.” Chrom stands and grabs her arms, stilling her motions. The look in her eye pretty much confirms it, but he has to ask. “Robin, is it starting back up again?”

“Yes. I dreamed it again two nights ago.”

When she doesn’t pull away from his hands, he draws her closer. Her body trembles, and she rests her cheek against his shoulder.

“Listen to me, Robin,” he says into her soft hair, as one of her hands snakes around his body to clutch at his cape. “The future can be changed. Lucina came back in time to help us change it.” Chrom sighs, and peers down. She is listening, at least, he can tell in the tilt of her head, the wideness of her eyes. “I wish you had told me, two years ago. Maybe by foreseeing this, you’ve already changed it so it won’t happen.”

She raises her hand, jingling the beads on the bracelet. “Something takes control from me, forces my hand. I don’t want to kill you… but I don’t believe I will be able to choose.” She presses her lips together, and shifts away from him. “I won’t let Lucina’s future come to pass. This is what I must do to save you.”

Chrom feels his hands tightening into fists at his side. _It’s not fair_ , he thinks. “You won’t kill me. You’re strong, and you’ve got the charms to protect you.” He exhales a shaky sigh. “You should have told me.”

“There’s nothing I would have done differently. I don’t regret not marrying you.”

“I do,” Chrom says quietly. “I wish you had married me... even if it had ended with you killing me.”

She shakes her head so hard at that, that her hair falls in her eyes. “Don’t say that.”

“It wouldn’t, though. I know you won’t harm me.” He shrugs. “I love you, Robin.”

“I love you too,” Robin says, and rises up on her tip-toes. She presses a gentle kiss against his cheek, and it burns against his skin.

“I guess we’re done here, then,” he says, and his voice sounds bitter to his own ears.

She nods, and he leaves.

~*~

Two days later, Robin hears the terse report she has been waiting for - the Valmese fleet has been spotted, and they are coming this way. In a state of shock, Robin sends Cordelia to tell the rest of the ships the news, and soon enough everyone is moving around with purpose again. Weapons are sharpened and the Shepherds can be seen along the decks, wielding their weapons in the tight space between masts and seafaring equipment.

War is coming, and Robin stands still at the railing, watching the movements around her. Chrom strides past, and their eyes meet across the distance.

He has been distant since their last private conversation, and he walks around in a state of unhappiness that is apparent to everyone. Robin has heard almost everyone ask him what’s wrong, and every time her stomach tightens with fear, thinking that he will reveal it… but he never does. His sorrow is difficult for her to see, because it resonates with her own.

He gives her a little nod that means everything and nothing, and then turns away. He always looks away first.

When Cordelia returns from her rounds of the fleet, a familiar passenger is with her. Robin’s heart leaps and her stomach flip-flops as she sees that dark hair and the typical Assassin garb come down from the white Pegasus. He says something to Cordelia, who smiles and laughs.

The sun shines down on the decks as Lon’qu walks up to her, and bows his head to her. When he raises his head, he is smiling, faintly. Robin takes that as an encouraging sign.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days,” she states, studying the lines of Lon’qu’s body. He looks calm, and as relaxed as she’s seen him since they departed from Ylisstol. She hopes it means he’s made a decision.

“I’ve been… reflecting,” he says, and leans against the railing next to her. He doesn’t reach for her.

“I told Chrom we were done,” she says, as the wind blows her hair into her face. “Even if you and I… are finished, as well.” She sweeps the strands back and holds them in place.

His eyes are cast down to the rolling waves below. “I can’t be with you, right now. I think you know this.”

_Right now._ As if… there is a chance later.

She nods, even though it feels like something delicate is breaking in her chest. “I understand,” she chokes out.

“Please, don’t cry,” Lon’qu says, turning to look at her. “Robin, please…”

She closes her eyes as the tears drip out, and sweeps her fingers along her cheeks. A week ago she had both of them… and now she has neither.

_I have screwed this up completely,_ she thinks. Her hands cling to the railing, as if she will plummet into the sea otherwise.

Lon’qu reaches out for her shoulder, but she shakes her head.

“Don’t touch me,” she croaks, her mouth feeling full of cotton.

He stands close, but doesn’t reach for her again. A cold seeps into her body, and recognizes it as fear. Fear of what, she’s not immediately certain.

“I’m… glad to see you again,” she says to Lon’qu, watching his pulse beating hard right above his collar.

“Robin,” he whispers her name, and it means everything and nothing at the same time. All the words between them, the ones that for whatever reason, he can’t say yet, leak into that one utterance, and when he hugs her, she doesn’t protest. She rests her head against his chest, a fleeting warmth seeping through the heavy jacket. His cold fingers snake into her hair as he clutches her to him.

Eventually she pushes away, and he lets go.

“I should go get planning…” she says, and he looks right at her.

“Okay. You let me know if you need anything. I… still love you.” His hand caresses her cheek.

She manages to escape from him before she has a panic attack in the middle of the deck, where everyone can see. She shuts the door to her room and rests her back against it, then falls to the floor, shuddering with gasps.

Eventually, she rises, an empty calm spreading through her limbs. _Have I reached my limit for pain?_ she wonders, remotely.

It is easier to think now, in her room, by herself. Robin moves to the desk, where someone – Frederick, probably – has left neat piles of notes about the Valmese fleet.

She feels a chill deep in her chest, but she wraps her cloak tighter around herself, and returns to the planning. She studies the descriptions Cordelia and Cherche had brought, looking over the volume of Valmese ships. It will be a massive sea battle, of a size that hasn’t been seen in centuries.

After she has rearranged the little figures on her desk to launch the first of many mock-battles, she pauses.

_I’m not good enough for this fight_ , she realizes, and sets the papers down on the map. She sighs into her hands. The harsh reality is, she has studied watery maneuvers for a few weeks, and the opposing Valmese captains have had decades of experience.

There’s a knock at the closed door, and she lets out a little squeak. Her capacity for heartache has been diminished, and she doesn’t go to the door. If she ignores it, perhaps they will go away, and leave her in peace.

“Robin?” The door opens, but she doesn’t turn. “Are you all right?”

It’s only Frederick, but she still can’t look up. “Mmhmm,” she hums, still leaning on her elbows on the table.

“Would you like me to go?” He pauses at the door, she can tell by the silence behind her.

“I don’t think I can defeat the Valmese fleet,” she says, softly.

He closes the door, and his armor clunks and creaks as he walks across the deck and stands beside her. “Why do you think that?”

“I hardly know any nautical maneuvers. And there are three times as many Valmese men on their ships, as we have on ours. They live on the water, and we don’t.”

He stands still for a moment, clasping his hands behind his back. Robin can see him tapping his foot on the floor, slowly and rhythmically. Is he impatient or frustrated with her self-doubts?

“It seems to me that you have to take your land tactical skills, and apply them here.” He drags over the second stool and sits beside her, relaxing as much as he can in the armor. “How would you attempt it if you were on land?”

She exhales, and then nods, giving the question some thought. “If they were grouped in pockets like this, I would send equal forces against them, but from another direction. From the side, perhaps – take away their defensible positions and come at them from behind.”

She casts her hand across the crude map of the water that she has drawn, the little wooden cavalry symbolizing ships spread on the map.

He reaches out at the same time, and their hands bump.

“Your hands are cold,” Frederick comments, and catches one, gently chafing at it. With Frederick, there is no hidden meaning to his touch - it is simply something that he does. She is cold, and he is trying to warm her. He helps as best he can. “Well, we can’t really flank them in the water,” he says, drawing her attention back to the map.

“I would try to send something in to even the odds – some magic to scatter them, or something,” she says, as Frederick moves on to her other hand. She is grateful that he doesn’t seem inclined to speak of Chrom, or Lon’qu. She’s certain he’s heard from Chrom, at least, but Frederick is always highly professional.

They debate strategies back and forth for a few more minutes, and Robin no longer feels so overwhelmed. There is a chance she can use her own skills in an unexpected way. An idea quickly forms in her head.

“May I see the supplies list for the boats?” She nods to Frederick’s left, and he reaches out and pulls over another notebook. “Do we have projectiles of any kind?”

“Not much,” Frederick says after a few moments of studying the rosters. “We have a surplus of lantern oil, but nothing to send it toward them with.”

“Oil? Hmm,” Robin replies, and narrows her eyes. Her hands fly across the map, shifting pieces around, and she rises up, hovering over the board. Each cavalry piece stands for a certain number of their own troops, and their fleet is half-full… “The ships could be our projectiles,” she mutters, and then stops, studying the layout she has arranged.

Robin cocks her head and eyes the whole board, then moves her now empty ships toward the Valmese line.

“Brilliant,” Frederick breathes, and smiles with a hint of pride in his features. “We can use our empty ships, link them together and throw them at their fleet.”

Robin goes pale as she thinks of all the Valmese lives potentially lost, but then steels herself against them. They are planning on coming to Ylisstol, to Regna Ferox, even to Plegia. _It is them, or us_.

“We would need to take out their command ship, first, if this is to work,” Robin warns, and motions to the ship that she’s placed at the front of the Valmese formation. “If we can send in our strongest Shepherds and take out their command… we might have a chance.”

She smiles at Frederick, and words cannot express the gift he gave her, helping her out of her fear and onto a path that has a chance for success. “Thank you, Frederick,” she says.

“Anytime, Robin,” he replies, and gives her a rare smile in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any blame should be placed for the delay in this chapter – I point you to Chrom. That first scene was hell to write.
> 
> Also - can't believe I forgot to mention this - a BIG shoutout to my writing buddy musicribbons, who listened to my ranting and raving about this chapter and really helped calm me down when I was about ready to rewrite the whole thing for a sixth time. Thank youuuu! 
> 
> I have been eagerly awaiting the next chapter for WEEKS. There is only one scene I have been looking forward to more… and if you know me at all, you know it is filled with angst. Next chapter out in a week or two. I’ve been updating my profile with estimate dates fairly regularly, so if you’re curious about the next update please check there. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and as always, thank you for reading!


	15. To Survive

Chapter 14 – To Survive 

 

Chrom leans his forearms on the railing and stares out at the approaching Valmese fleet. The smells of the ocean have become so familiar to him that he hardly notices the salty tang on the air. A cold sprinkle hits his face as the ocean splashes up against the hull beneath him, and he swipes at it with a sleeve.

The enemy warships are almost an hour away, by Frederick’s reckoning, but he can see their sails on the horizon. They are coming. He trusts Robin’s planning without doubt, and even more so now that their enemy has moved to engage.

Part of him can’t wait to leap onto the Valmese ships and start killing everything in sight. It is a harsh thought, but he has been plagued with all this anger, and no outlet for it. He misses Robin’s companionship (but also, if he’s being honest with himself… her passion and her love, as well). He has grown increasingly fond of her over the years, and he fears that they have broken something between them. Whenever he looks at her, he feels hurt and angry, and he’s afraid of what will come out if he speaks.

He wishes she had told him the real reason she didn’t want to marry him, two years ago. He could have talked her out of it, then. But now… he wonders if she’s right, and the visions are truthful. Will being intimate really cause her to kill him? He can’t tell – the future is so hard to predict. He trusts Robin with his life… but when she tells him she thinks she will kill him, he can’t decide if he should believe her, or not.

He sighs heavily.

“What’s wrong, Father?” Lucina’s question startles Chrom out of his contemplation. She stands beside him, a pleased smile on her lips as she studies him. That worshipful look makes Chrom uncomfortable, but he tries not to let his reaction show to the young woman.

“Nothing is wrong, Lucina. I’m just… thinking.”

“About the battle?” Lucina asks, and leans her elbow against the railing, body turned toward him.

He shrugs, and they stand together in silence for a few moments. “About everything, I suppose.”

Lucina nods. “I’m worried, too. But even in my time, Robin’s strategy was unparalleled. If anyone can defeat them, it is her.” She looks out over the ocean, and her jaw tightens.

“Lucina… how old were you when I … died?” It is a strange question to ask, and it doesn’t come out easily.

“I was eleven.”

“Do you know how I died?”

She looks sharply at him. “I heard… you were murdered – betrayed, by someone close to you.”

Shock runs down his spine. Does she mean… Robin? “Ah,” he says, and cannot think of an easy way to ask the question that is pulsing through his head.

“I am not yet two, in this timeline,” Lucina says, looking down and placing a hand on the sword at her side. Chrom realizes she does it often when she is upset, as if touching the sword her dead father once held will bring him closer to her. Chrom winces and has to look away. “There’s plenty of time to find your would-be killer.”

Chrom relaxes at her suggestion. He doesn’t know how much of the future they have changed, but he can’t imagine the timeline has accelerated _that_ much, that he would be worried about an ambush soon. He will have to mention this to Robin. He moves on from the topic, into what he hopes is a less painful one. “Did you have any siblings or companions, in the future?”

She looks down. “I – I shouldn’t reveal that, I think.”

A hot fear runs through Chrom for an instant. Does that mean… something might happen to Sumia’s second child? Lucina seems very upset – she curls her shoulders in, and then forces them back, as if she knows that people are watching. She’s young, maybe sixteen to his twenty-two. To take on such a burden as she has, to come back in time – to abandon the future as lost… Chrom can’t imagine how hard it would be. The world sits on her shoulders, the world that he left her, whether purposefully or not.

“Lucina,” he says, moved by sympathy and the desire to protect her. He turns to hug her, and her body trembles in his arms. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he says, because he can’t comfort what she won’t reveal to him. “I’m just glad you came back to help us.”

“As hard as it was,” she starts, and clears her throat, “I’m glad I came back too… even though I sacrificed a lot to get here. It could have all been for nothing.”

“Are you nervous about the future?” Chrom asks. Lucina has never struck him as anything but confident, at least on the battlefield.

“Of course I am,” she says after a moment, and takes a step or two back from him. When she shifts, the mark in her left eye shines out for a moment, catching the sunlight just right. “After Emmeryn’s death, I realized that it is not guaranteed that I will change the future. When I found out you were returning to Valm, I followed your army everywhere to ensure you would be safe. I must be always vigilant.” She places her hand on her sword, a vow of sorts, although he’s not certain if it is a vow to her dead father, or to him.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. After Emm’s… assassination, why didn’t you stay with us, and reveal yourself then?”

She frowns. “I didn’t have much choice. My path was set… and I had already altered history too much.”

“We’ll keep your future from coming to pass,” he promises, gripping her shoulder.

Lucina smiles dimly. “I will not fail you, again.”

It took him a moment to realize what she meant. “You didn’t fail with Emmeryn, Lucina. You couldn’t know what Gangrel would do.” His voice darkens. Even two years later, the circumstances surrounding his elder sister’s death still rankle. “None of us could have predicted that – not even Robin.”

She drums her fingers against the railing. “I suppose you’re right. In my time, Emmeryn died in Ylisstol, the night you were attacked by those assassins.”

Chrom nods, and returns his forearms to the railing. A smaller vessel, the one that they will be using for the attack, is docking alongside the ship they currently stand on. Robin doesn’t want to sacrifice the flagship, and her reasoning is sound. They stand quiet for a time, and then he hears Robin’s voice behind him, calling out orders.

He turns to look toward her - he can’t help it that whenever she is around, he is aware of her presence, almost like a compass needle pulled to North. Robin looks determined this morning, and she strides along the dock with purpose.

Lucina is watching him with narrowed eyes, and he feels heat flush up his neck. Her eyes flick between Chrom and Robin, and her gaze is almost as effective as that slap Sumia delivered, back in Regna Ferox.

It forces a painful thought into his head: he is not being a good father to his Lucinas… and his unborn child, as well. He has been a terrible husband to Sumia.

_Gods… what have I been doing to them?_ His body flushes with hot awareness. _Robin… was right_.

She might have been doing it to protect him, but Robin forcing that distance between them was the right move. His stomach hurts, and he shifts from foot to foot.

“Father…?” He opens his eyes, and Lucina is watching him. Her face is open, concerned, and the brand in her eye sparkles in the sunlight.

“I… have been having an affair.” The words ease out of him, and he feels a great weight lifted off of his shoulders.

Lucina stares at him, and her eyes fill with tears. She draws in a deep breath, and looks away. “I know.”

He jolts. “What? How do you know?”

“Robin admitted to it.”

“You… asked her about it?”

Lucina doesn’t look at him. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you… so yes, I asked her about it.”

“How can you be so casual about this?”

“Because… I don’t care about that. I just care about keeping you – and Mother – safe.” Lucina leans in, toward him, and takes his hand. In that instant, she reminds him very much of his little daughter back home. That baby will grow up into this strong-willed, determined woman. And she wants to save him?

He’s not worthy of her adoration. He is the one that should protect her.

“I’m sorry, Lucina. I love you.” He moves to her and hugs her, and she wraps her arms around his back.

Frederick clears his throat behind Chrom, and they part. Lucina swipes at her eyes and doesn’t look up.

“We’re ready to board the other ship,” Frederick says.

Lucina nods, avoiding Chrom’s gaze still. “Let’s go.”

~*~

Lon’qu’s weapons are prepared. His bow hangs across his back, the quiver a familiar weight on his shoulder. The Killing Edge at his hip has been freshly polished. He is ready, and yet something is off.

He and Robin usually prepare together… and this time he is alone.

He watches her standing in the prow of the boat, white hair streaming back from her ponytail as the wind blows down their ship. They have moved to a smaller, more agile craft, in preparation for the impending battle – their flagship is safely at the rear of the formation, and away from any flames. She raises one hand and motions toward several of the ships at the edge of her fleet, speaking with Frederick. The knight, dressed in full battle gear, leans over her notes, and nods. She flips through to another page.

Lon’qu feels a swelling in his chest, watching her plan and direct. She seems… better. Less ready to have a breakdown than she was a few days ago. He stands a bit straighter, and then moves up toward her. He doesn’t want to bother her but at the same time he doesn’t want this battle to begin without speaking to her. Always in the back of his mind, he thinks there is a chance one or both of them will not return from this, alive.

“-When those barrels go up,” Frederick finishes as Lon’qu comes within earshot.

“Exactly.” Robin nods grimly, and then looks up at Lon’qu’s approach. Her face brightens, not exactly a smile, but it is reassuring. “Frederick, could you give us a minute?”

The knight inclines his head and turns, clanking a few steps away in his heavy armor.

“Hi,” she greets Lon’qu, pressing her notes against her armored chest. Her long bangs blow in her face, and she reaches out and tuck them behind her ear. He sees a bracelet with a feather attached to it hanging from her wrist, beneath the cloak.

“I miss you,” he says, without thinking, and her almost-smile freezes and fades.

“I miss you too,” she says, and her eyes tighten.

Lon’qu suddenly realizes that her pleasant demeanor was all just a convincing façade, so convincing that he thought she was fine. He didn’t come over here to unravel her.

He winces, and says, “You be careful out there, alright?”

“I will be.” Robin looks over her shoulder at Frederick, who has his back to them, offering the illusion of privacy. “I’ll be standing with Frederick today,” she informs Lon’qu. “He won’t let anything happen, I’m sure.”

“Good,” he nods, and moves in closer. She stares at him for a moment, and then slides in to hug him. Her hands tremble at his back, and she pulls away before he wants her to.

Robin has paired him with Cordelia for this battle, a partnership he’s not certain he likes, but he doesn’t want to argue about it. He has nothing against Cordelia, despite her being a woman. She is pleasant and courteous to be around. During the battle, he will be able to ignore her femininity, but before and after it will be exceedingly awkward. Robin had explained that both of them had long-range attacks – that, combined with the maneuverability of the pegasus, makes them ideal snipers.

It doesn’t change the fact that he would rather be at Robin’s side.

He’s still not certain he made the right decision with Robin, but Basilio was right that he needed to make a decision, and stick with it… at least until this battle is over.

She stares at him, and he stares back. Somehow, the silence speaks better for him than his own voice. Robin reaches with her marked hand and twines their fingers together.

She bites her bottom lip, those big dark eyes flicking back and forth along his face. He leans forward, toward her.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Robin says, and reaches behind her. He takes a step back. “Cordelia wanted an extra Arcfire tome – can you give this to her?” He takes the reddish-gold book, his thumb tracing the embossed symbol on the cover. Was that distraction intentional on her part, a move to keep that distance between them? Lon’qu wishes he knew.

Robin looks down, and her hair blows in her eyes again. This time, Lon’qu captures her bangs and tucks them behind her ear. The touch of her skin and hair is comforting. He can tell she is remembering their past together as well, for she closes her eyes as his fingers linger on her ear. A smile brushes her lips.

Frederick clears his throat, and steps back toward them. “We should continue preparing, Robin,” he suggests, and gives Lon’qu a somewhat apologetic look.

Robin’s eyes fly open, and Lon’qu can tell she was somewhere far away for an instant, his touch temporarily transporting her. She ducks her head, and Lon’qu drops his hand.

“I should go get ready, as well,” Lon’qu says, and backs up immediately.

Lon’qu hears his name being called. He turns, and sees Cordelia waving him down from the middle of the deck.

“Stay safe, Lon’qu,” Robin says, and he turns back to her briefly.

“You too.” He nods, almost a bow to the woman he still loves.

He goes to Cordelia’s pegasus’s side, and then looks back at Robin. She is turned back to the approaching ships, her head close to Frederick’s. A feeling of longing runs through him – he should have done more, should have said something different… but the time is passed.

The anticipation of the soldiers on the deck rises, as the boats cut through the water. After cinching down a pair of lances and several tomes, including the new one that Robin gave him, Cordelia sweeps up into the saddle, mounting with practiced ease.

“Ready, Lon’qu?” she asks, offering a hand down to him. Her red eyes are bright and aware – she is as eager for this battle as he is.

He grunts an affirmative, grimacing at the touch of her bare hand, and swings up behind her.

He sets his legs against the flanks beneath him, readies his bow in his hands, and exhales.

“Ready.”

~*~

Flames and smoke billow out across the wide ocean, stinging Robin’s eyes. Half of their fleet burns, taking with it the majority of the Valmese ships. She squints against the queasiness in her stomach. They have won… but to Robin, it doesn’t feel like a success.

It is bitter and painful.

Flavia steps up beside her and claps a hand across her shoulder. Her grin is wide and cheerful, and the axe at her side is freshly cleaned. “Well done, Robin! Only you could hatch such a brilliant scheme, and pull it off so handily.”

Robin forces a smile, even though she feels ill at the praise. “Thank you.”

Flavia gives her another slap on the back that jolts her body, and then moves away, leaving Robin alone for the moment.

All those lives lost… Did she make the right decision? Even knowing it was the Valmese or her own friends and companions - kill or be killed - she still wishes there was a better way. Tears leak down her cheeks as the others celebrate on the ship behind her. She has to watch the ships burn, has to listen to those imagined cries of death, because she caused them.

Her hand goes to her chest, and she draws in a ragged breath.

“It’s all right, Robin,” a soft voice says from her right. Lucina stands strong and tall beside her, and those blue eyes, so much like her father’s, are kind. There is a slash across her left bicep, and her sleeve gaps from her arm, but it is no longer bleeding.

“Nothing about this is all right,” Robin says, shaking her head. The wind shifts, turning the smoke away, instead carrying the faint scent of blood and sweat from behind them.

Lucina places her hand on Robin’s back, gentler than Flavia. “It was necessary. Back in my own time, many people died so that I could live. Some of my companions saw something in me that I myself didn’t – whether it was my heritage or my father’s place that I tried hard to fill, they believed in me, and died for me.” She sets her other hand on her sword, and looks away. “And others, I killed directly. The deaths of those people I loved still haunt me… and yet I would sacrifice them again, to save the future.”

Lucina looks out toward the flames. A heavy pause stretches between them, and Robin frowns.

“Lucina,” Robin whispers, but doesn’t know what else to say.

The girl draws in a deep breath and pins Robin with those deep, branded eyes. “We do what we have to do, to survive, and to protect those we love.”

_To survive… and to protect those we love_. Robin turns around and looks first at Chrom, who is animatedly explaining something to Basilio. He notices her, and gives a firm little nod. He fought well today – both of her men did.

Her eyes leap to Lon’qu, who is standing beside Vaike, Cordelia and Stahl. Vaike is speaking, and Stahl interjects something with a laugh. Lon’qu doesn’t notice her gaze, although she can tell he isn’t really listening to the conversation around him.

She turns back to Lucina. “You’re right. We do what we must to protect those we love. It doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

Lucina’s eyes fill with tears. “No, it doesn’t.” She raises her face to the sunlight and draws in a deep breath.

Robin sees her clenched fist on the railing, and on a whim, reaches to touch it.

Lucina flinches away from her. “Excuse me,” she says, her voice full of emotion, and strides quickly up to the prow, away from everyone.

Robin frowns, watching the young woman for a moment. She hadn’t meant to upset her.

The sounds of celebration float back to Robin, a cacophony of voices and armor. She doesn’t want to be drawn into it, and so she quickly retreats. She’s certain no one sees her leave the upper deck.

She enters her little cabin, the relative silence soothing. She removes her cloak and armor and curls up in one of the blankets on the bunk. The waves crash soothingly against the hull, a constant rhythm beneath her. For once, the ship isn’t rocking wildly in all directions. She rubs at her itchy forearm, where Maribelle had healed a glancing slash from an axe. Another scar to add to the collection, she thinks.

She draws in a deep breath as tears leak from her eyes. They survived, and that’s what counts. But the deaths of those Valmese will haunt her – the price paid to survive another day.

After a few minutes, there’s a knock at her door. “Come in,” she calls, not much caring who it is. She rubs at her eyes with a knuckle, clearing the tears away.

It's Lon'qu. He sits on the bed beside her, touching her knee. “I noticed you were gone. Are you okay?”

She stares at the opposite wall. Robin doesn’t really know if she’s alright. There’s something screaming within her, an aching void, and part of her wants to jump feet-first into that emptiness and not feel anything, just for a little bit.

She says, “We won… so I suppose I’m okay.”

“Yes, we won.” There’s not much else that he could say to that.

Lon’qu sits quietly beside her, rubbing her knee absently. He shifts, as if he’s going to move, and then stops. He opens his mouth and then closes it. Robin looks at his face for a moment.

“Would you… stay with me, for a little while?” she asks, and grips his wrist.

He stares at her hand. Robin lets go, aware that she might have just crossed a line.

“Never mind,” she whispers, and tucks her hands under her chin. Her cheeks flush at his rejection.

He stares at her for a few more moments, until she covers her face with her hands. _Just go away, then_ , she thinks hard at him.

“I’ll stay,” he says, and shifts.

“I don’t want you to stay out of pity,” Robin says from beneath her hands. She peeks out at him when he doesn’t respond, staring at his face, hoping to catch a glimpse of his intentions through the calm expression he’s adopted.

Robin lowers her hands in surprise. He’s removing his jacket.

He pauses, looking back at her, that long stretch of jacket gapping open. The thin shirt and a flash of skin are exposed beneath it.

Lon’qu leans down and rests his face on the pillow beside hers, and his large eyes peer out at her from beneath heavy eyelids. His fingers touch her hair, smoothing it back from her neck. There’s a hint of emotion now in the parting of his mouth, in the softness of his eyes, and Robin draws in a quick breath at the sight of it.

“It’s definitely not pity,” he says, and kisses her. He pulls back to whisper against her skin, “If either of us die tomorrow, I want things to be right between us.”

Her eyes water, and she runs her fingers against his cheek.

He slides a hand beneath the blanket, running those calloused fingers along her bare upper back, and then shifts and twists. Robin ends up straddling him, her hair falling into his face as she leans over him. Her heart is beating madly in her chest, as his hand runs along the back of her neck and draws her in for another kiss.

He smells like pegasus and smoke, but he tastes like home and comfort.

Robin doesn’t want to ask if this is temporary or permanent. She doesn’t want to know what brought him to her now… all she knows is that she has missed him, and he’s here now, fully present.

Something like kindling sparks in her chest and lower abdomen, and suddenly her body feels warm. Robin pushes the rest of her worries away. She adjusts her hips firmly over his and is rewarded by a soft sigh.

She grinds her hips harder against his arousal. The pressure floods her body with excitement.

“Robin…” Lon’qu utters her name like a prayer against her lips. He tilts her neck back with his thumb against her jawbone, and kisses her throat. A little noise ekes out of her, and he sighs against her skin as his mouth drifts down to her collarbone.

His hands fall to her waist, and then his fingertips graze under her shirt, drawing it up over her head. She shakes out her hair, gasping as his hands slide up against her bra. The feather of her bracelet runs against their skin, but she doesn’t remove it. She finishes unbuttoning his jacket and tosses it to the floor. Pale scars come into view across his pale chest and upper arms, and her fingers trace them.

Lon’qu sits up and she rises onto her knees. One hand cups her rear, pulling her chest to his face, and his other hand runs against her stomach. She sighs and touches his hair, clinging to him. He takes his time, slowly working her breasts out of her bra, nibbling and sucking, until she’s moaning and grinding against his thighs in impatience.

He rolls her over onto her back and slides her pants and smallclothes from her body. His eyes devour all her bare skin as he takes his own clothing off, and then he crawls over her. Robin grips his forearms on either side of her body as he leans in for another kiss, sloppy and desperate this time.

When the head of his erection brushes against her, she moans. She is wet and ready for him.

Slowly, gently, as if for the first time, he angles her hips and gently presses into her. She cries out, a hand against his lower back to pull him closer. He presses his body on top of hers and starts thrusting into her.

Their feet entwine, and she feels the sharpness of his toenails as he sets every part of himself against every part of her. They sting her toes, but she doesn’t pull away.

Robin clings to him, skin to skin, relishing his warmth and his scent around her until he spills his seed inside of her. As their bodies slowly come down from the heat of passion, he rises onto his elbows, and gives her such an expression of tenderness that fresh tears prick at her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says to her, drawing her left hand, the one with his ring on it, to his mouth. He kisses the palm, his eyelashes fluttering against her fingers.

“I’m sorry too,” she breathes, and wraps her legs tighter around his hips. One moment of passion won’t fix everything that lies between them, but she feels as if they’ve finally stepped in the right direction. As the feather trails along her arm, she finally feels like things are moving forward. She smiles, and he returns it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was probably my longest chapter for this story so far (over 4,000 words)! I had to choose between that exciting scene I’ve been looking forward to for ages… and comfort sex with Lon’qu… Sex with Lon’qu won out. Next chapter… the scene! (Like you’ve never heard that before… I’m sorry I can’t keep this story from growing out of control. It’s going to be around 80k at this point, I’m guessing.)  
> And a little while ago I commissioned a scene from the wonderful artist tiuanarui - http://tiuanarui.tumblr.com/post/130575777900/belated-commissions-for-sarai377. This is the scene immediately after Lon'qu and Chrom fought... (yes that one - don't worry, it's not explicit!). She did such a good job with this.   
> I’ll need a full two weeks for the next one, unless by some miracle Chrom stops being a giant pain in my butt (fat chance). My estimate upload dates are in my profile, and I’m updating them fairly regularly.  
> As always, thank you to everyone for reading! (5,000 hits and 215+ kudos… wow.) Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! I really appreciate everyone’s comments. Thank you!


	16. When It Rains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have mentioned a few chapters ago that I’m planning on changing details of the Valmese invasion as I see fit… this is one of those times. :)

Chapter 15 – When It Rains

 

The storm rolled in shortly after their defeat of the Valmese fleet, and their journey has been waterlogged for the past two days.

Chrom is sick of the constant sogginess. None of his clothing feels warm and dry anymore. He shifts from foot to foot, squinting at the Valmese map spread on the galley table before him.

Lanterns creak as they swing from pegs. The lights barely pierce the gloom that has fallen over the whole ship, and Chrom finds himself wondering if this storm will ever pass.

“Right… What do you think?” Robin asks, gesturing to the chosen location. It is a medium-sized port positioned in the center of the coastline. She and Frederick have been discussing their first attack on Valmese soil for the past twenty or so minutes, with Cordelia and Cherche providing insights.

Across the table, Cherche and Cordelia lean over the map. Robin finally decided to “ground” both of them that morning until the storm blows through.

The ship sways beneath them, and Robin loses her balance. She catches herself on Chrom’s arm, drawing in a shallow breath and gritting her teeth. Chrom instinctively puts a hand on her back, holding her steady.

“I think it is our best option,” Cherche says. Her red hair flows like silk over her shoulder.

Cordelia nods in agreement. “We shouldn’t go much further south.” Her eyes narrow as she looks up at Robin, and with a shock Chrom realizes he is still holding his tactician. He slowly lets go, feeling his cheeks flush with heat. At least it is dim enough that the others can’t see his blush.

Robin has her eyes closed and her lips pressed into a thin line. “Frederick?” she prompts, keeping her eyes shut. Chrom studies her paleness and wonders how much longer they will be on the open sea. He fears she will need a few days to recover after this journey is over. They are going to mount an immediate attack upon landfall, and she needs to be ready.

On her other side, Frederick sighs. “It will do. I find no fault in it.”

Chrom studies the way her hand grips the table now, unaware of the silence that lingers, waiting for his answer.

“Chrom?”

He jumps a bit at the question in her tone, looking up at her. In spite of his new intentions, her voice speaking his name makes his body respond. She opens her eyes, expectant. Chrom’s mouth parts and he stares back for an instant before realizing she is waiting for his answer.

“Whatever you think is best,” he says in a rush, looking down. He hopes it is too dim for the others to read the emotions running through him. “I trust your decision.”

Robin hums, and taps her finger against her lips. “Fine. I think we’ll attempt this one first.” There is another sway in the ship beneath their feet, and Robin makes a little pained sound. “I think this meeting is over. Excuse me,” she hisses, and turns and bolts from the galley. The door sweeps closed behind her.

Chrom winces, and wishes he could go to her. It would not be good for anyone if he were alone with her, though. He doesn’t trust himself.

In the relative silence after Robin’s sudden departure, Cordelia and Cherche exchange worried looks. “Poor thing,” Cherche says. “If the weather was better, I’d offer to take her up on Minerva for a little while. Sometimes flying can soothe seasickness.”

“It’s worth an attempt, once the storm lightens.” Frederick lets go of his end of the map, and it rolls back toward the far side, crinkling softly. “I’ll go check on her,” he says, and picks up the large paper, lining up the edges with his usual efficiency.

Chrom grabs one of the lanterns from the wall and Frederick takes another, and they all head out of the galley together. They part ways – Frederick down the hall toward Robin’s quarters, Cherche and Cordelia up to the deck. Chrom hesitates a moment, wishing he could follow his knight. The thought of Robin, vulnerable and sick… With a vehement shake of his head, he turns toward his own small room.

His mind wanders back to Robin as he walks the narrow hall, trailing his fingers along the rough wooden walls and evenly-spaced doors. The ship crests a large wave and shudders as it falls into the valley immediately following the rise.

Chrom misses her, but she seems keen on avoiding him. Every time he gets an opportunity to speak with her, she changes the subject, or some crisis that only she can handle arises. What Chrom really wants is to get back that familiarity, that friendship. He will try to keep from having feelings for her – he just really misses her.

With a deep sigh, he closes his eyes, and then straightens his back. He can almost hear Robin’s uplifting tone as she used to speak with him, before their affair. They will be off this ship soon enough, and then he will make time to talk with Robin. He needs to fix this, somehow.

“Might I have a word?”

A voice breaks through his thoughts, and he looks up suddenly. There is a familiar figure leaning against the wall next to his door.

Chrom eyes Lon’qu warily. The last time they’d spoken, Lon’qu had tried to kill him, and that is not something he will forget anytime soon. Still, Lon’qu’s weapons are conspicuously absent, and Chrom has Falchion. It is too small an area to utilize the large blade, but he feels better with it at his side.

“Okay,” he agrees, and sweeps into his room. He sets the lantern on the small desk and turns to take his seat on the stool. The Assassin closes the door with an ominous click.

Chrom doesn’t offer Lon’qu a seat, so the man remains standing. “What did you want to discuss?”

“I… want to apologize,” Lon’qu says. It sounds like he would rather be chewing on glass. His words are sharp and angry.

“Did Robin put you up to this?” Chrom asks.

Lon’qu’s eyes narrow even further, and his hand twitches to the absent hilt at his belt. “No,” he grunts. “I wanted to do this. I shouldn’t have attacked you. It was… brash.”

Chrom agrees wholeheartedly with that statement, but says nothing.

Lon’qu glares down at his own hands. “I know that Robin still has feelings for you. She wants both of us.”

Chrom’s eyebrows rise, but the man still doesn’t look up. “Why are you telling me this?”

“What is she, to you? Why did you do it?” Lon’qu’s voice is soft, and his answer is hovering beneath the surface of his questions. Chrom could almost believe he is just watching out for his wife’s heart, but jealousy is etched into every line of his body.

“I love her, and I want to make her happy,” Chrom replies, even though he doesn’t owe Lon’qu any explanation. “I have loved her since well before either of us proposed. And I will always love her.”

Lon’qu looks furious now, but Chrom presses on, “Would you rather I tell you this was just some fling? That I have needs, and she was just a convenient way to satisfy those needs?” He throws a hand out, palm up, daring Lon’qu to refute it.

“Of course not,” Lon’qu snaps, and then his shoulders fall. “I just… wish Robin had never accepted my ring.”

He sits down heavily on the corner of the bed, covering his face. The ship creaks around them, and wind lashes against the hull, driving splatters of rain in rhythmic counterpoint.

“You don’t mean that.” Chrom’s own anger dissipates in the face of that despairing statement. He rests an elbow on his knee, and leans in toward the other man a bit. “You would have pined away for her if she had rejected you, too. We both love her.”

“And she loves both of us,” Lon’qu says after a pause, his jaw squeezing tight. Despite who has said it, Chrom’s heart beats a little harder in his chest at that confirmation. It is something to hear that statement from someone else’s mouth, almost as final proof.

They sit in silence for a few moments, neither looking at the other.

“I accept your apology,” Chrom says, and surprisingly, he means it. “I understand why you attacked me, even if I felt it was a bit excessive.”

Lon’qu frowns at him, and then sighs through his nose.

With a softer tone, Chrom continues, “I feel I owe you one, as well.”

“I don’t want your apology,” Lon’qu replies.

Chrom shakes his head as the ship lurches around them. “I’m sorry for taking your wife from you.”

Lon’qu’s eyes are dark and wounded now, but Chrom has a funny feeling that look is not meant for him. After a moment, he says, “You didn’t take her from me. She’s always been yours.”

~*~

Robin barely has enough time to get into her room and fall to her knees before the bucket.  She retches, hands shaking as she holds herself up. She’s barely eaten anything all day, so she has only a little bile to bring up. That doesn’t stop her stomach from evacuating, though. The ship sways and she moans.

When it is over, she puts a hand up to her face. Her body is heavy, tired, and shaky.

There is a knock at the open door, and she looks up over her shoulder. It is Frederick.

Robin can’t quite bring herself to smile, but she gestures him into the room. Frederick catches her upper arm and helps her sit on the cot, then steps back to close the door. He hands her a cup of water, and the liquid cools her burning throat.

“Thanks,” she whispers, and manages a faint smile. He doesn’t return it.

He stands upright, arms clasped behind his back. His pose is too formal, too rigid, almost as if he’s bracing for something. Butterflies flutter in her chest and against her stomach as she stares up at him.

"Robin… I know it is not my place to ask, and this is probably not the right time… but I feel I must."

“Ask away,” she says. She pats the bunk beside her, still hovering over the bucket in case her body rebels against her again. _Just a question._ She wonders if it’s about Chrom, and the thought makes bile burn the back of her throat. She bows her head and takes deep breaths, struggling to keep her body from heaving.

He sits down beside her and rubs her back, gently. For a few moments neither of them say anything.

"What is your question?” she asks eventually. The intense nausea has passed, at least for now.

His voice is quiet and gentle, but the words still sting. "Are you pregnant?"

The question burns through her, and she sits upright almost absently. Funny how she never asked the question of herself. Awareness floods her, and the waves crash against the hull nearby.

Back before they discovered the Valmese invasion, she and Lon'qu had been tracking her cycle. They weren't ready to have children yet, and she had not wanted to bring a child into the world not knowing her past... so she was always aware of when they had to abstain. But all that went out the window when she started with Chrom... which was over a month ago.

She could be pregnant.

"Oh," she says.

"Oh?" Frederick echoes. "What does that mean?"

"I... never even thought of it," she says, her shoulders hunching. Her mind races ahead of her, to the end result– a child. In the silence, horrible thoughts jump one over the other.

"I... oh gods, I... I can't be pregnant. Not now... I don't even know who..." she babbles, and covers her face. She doesn't want to finish the statement. "I can't be pregnant now. I _can't_ be. I can't-" A little sob bursts out of her, and she's shuddering and trembling. Frederick grips her shoulders, putting an arm around her, and she feels dizzy.

Part of her doesn't even care that she's having a panic attack. She can’t remember if Frederick even knew she gets them, and she doesn’t care, because if she is pregnant…

Part of her just wants to curl up in a little ball on the bed and just stay there until everything passes by. Her body flushes hot and cold, and there’s a buzzing in the background, muffling everything.

Her head ends up on Frederick's shoulder as she swoons. The knight eases her to the bed, holding her hand like a little child. He whispers soothing things, and somehow the words cut through her panic. She curls on her side and squeezes her eyes shut, clinging to his hand.

“It’s okay, Robin. Deep breaths. There’s no need to worry about all of that yet. Just focus on breathing slow… and steady…”

She doesn’t know how long the panic attack lasts, only that eventually her breathing calms. A growing numbness floats through her emotions, deadening them.

Robin opens her eyes, and for some reason the sight of Frederick hovering above her makes her want to laugh. He looks so concerned, his eyebrows nearly touching above his crinkled nose.

“Okay?” he asks.

"Yes… I think I am pregnant,” she admits.

He nods reassuringly.

“What am I going to do?" she asks with a shudder, covering her face with one hand. “What am I going to tell everyone?”

It is almost a rhetorical question, but Frederick responds.

"You can keep it a secret for a while. It will be a few months before you start showing, and you will have plenty of time." He frowns. “I can get you something when we’re in Valm, to help with the nausea.”

His suggestions are reasonable, and some of that fog fades away. She sits upright, and studies his serious face.

"Do you think I can stay on as Chrom’s tactician?"

"I think you must. You're our best chance at doing this, Robin. Unless you want to go back to Ylisse?" 

“No!” She closes her eyes, and exhales shakily. “No, I don’t want to go back.” _Everything I love is here_ , she realizes.

“Robin, this isn’t a bad thing,” Frederick says gently. “Most people are pleased when this happens. Think about Chrom with Lucina, how much he adores her.”

She groans. She doesn’t want to think about how good a father Chrom is, and would be to her child. “That doesn’t help.”

“Are you concerned it is his?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, tears pricking her eyes. “Part of me wants it to be, and another part doesn’t.”

He wisely skirts around that statement. “Why don’t you stay in here and rest for the afternoon. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them that you were seasick.”

“Thanks, Frederick,” she says.

After he leaves, she lies down on the bed and presses her hand gently to her stomach. If she is pregnant, she will know soon. Perhaps she just needs to adjust to the idea. Lucina is really cute, even if Robin feels a stab of jealousy in her gut whenever the little toddler princess is brought around.

_Maybe it won’t be that bad…_

Somehow, she doubts it.

~*~

Robin and Lon’qu are together again, this time on the front line. It feels like a piece of her has been reconnected, although they are still tiptoeing around each other. Their new relationship is almost an elegant dance that Robin doesn’t know all the steps to yet. But she knows how to move with him in battle. Hours of practice together have made them move in unison, responding to each other’s non-verbal cues.

It is still raining, but it lacks that deathly chill that it contained on the ship.

Lon’qu draws his bow and aims at a low-flying gryphon rider, tracking the flight. His aim is true, and the creature shrieks as the arrow punctures a wing. Robin advances, readying her Elthunder magic, and deters a mounted knight who is coming their way. Her magic misses him, but he turns his horse around, seeking an easier target. She is certain he won’t find any – her Shepherds are primed and ready.

If they can take this port, they are done with their ocean journey, and they are all looking forward to sleeping on dry land.

Lon’qu returns to hover at her elbow, bow at the ready. Her rain-soaked bangs stick to her cheek, and she turns to her left. The majority of their army is in that direction, dealing with the still-fighting pocket of Valmese. She can see the twin Falchions of Chrom and his daughter across the soaked battlefield for an instant. A pang of emotion rushes through her at the sight of Chrom, but she pushes it down.

She raises her face to the sky and the rain patters against her face, and then she turns back to the battle.

Robin finds Henry and Tharja nearby, the two Dark Mages falling into a rhythm. At a gesture from Robin, they come closer. “We need to get to that last group near the gates,” Robin tells them, pointing straight ahead. Henry is grinning wildly at the thought of battle, and Tharja looks grim and determined, as always.

The quartet advance slowly, Henry and Tharja gripping their tomes tightly. Lon’qu exchanges his bow for his Killing Edge, swiping at the water in his eyes with his upper arm.

The Valmese at the gate turn toward them. Robin ducks beneath an incoming Spear, spinning away from Lon’qu. She shoots off a flare of magic and it crashes down from the sky, scattering the attacking soldiers. A Myrmidon darts between her and Lon’qu, and her husband moves to intercept. They clash and the enemy turns his back to her, and she takes the opportunity to strike.

A warning flares in her mind as she finishes off the Myrmidon, and she turns.

“Mother!”

There’s a flash of movement in the corner of her eye, and something hits her in the middle of her back, tossing her to the wet ground. Thunder rumbles nearby, and a man screams from behind her. 

With a gasp, she rises to her hands, heavy mud in between her fingers. Her tome has gone flying somewhere, and she reaches for another one within her cloak. And then she pauses as a small hand is offered to her.

Robin looks up at the boy who apparently saved her from an attack. He looks familiar, although she feels she would remember him.

“Mother, are you all right?” he asks, catching her hand and pulling her to her feet.

“M-mother?” she gasps, staring at him. “Me?”

His eyes narrow and he tilts his head in his hood. “Yes. Are you alright? Did you hit your head?” She realizes why he looks so familiar- he has her dark eyes and her small nose… and her cloak.

Robin reaches out and runs her hand down the left sleeve of his cloak, feeling the wet fabric beneath her gritty fingers. There across the forearm is the axe-slash that nearly took her hand off, two years ago, sewn with neat, careful stitches.

Now she knows what Chrom felt, looking at Lucina with Falchion. He has her _cloak_. The same one that she has tenderly darned all these years. Lucina had mentioned there were others around her age, but she hadn’t said they came back in time with her.

“We must have gotten separated,” he says, and hugs her. Surprised, she hugs him back, right there on the battlefield. She feels a warmth in her body, holding this young teenager in her arms.

There is no doubt in her mind that this is her son from the future, although two minutes ago she had no idea he even existed. She is still surprised to find him here, of all places.

Lon’qu and the two Dark Mages have cleared out most of the enemies nearby, and Robin releases the young man as they approach.

“Robin! Here’s your tome…” Lon’qu rushes up beside her and then stops. “What’s this?”

The teenager steps back and looks at the Assassin with a confused expression, and Robin feels the first pangs of fear in that expression. Does this mean… Lon’qu is not his father? Her knees quake and she draws in a breath.

“My… son,” she says, staring at Lon’qu.

Lon’qu stands up taller, normally half-lidded eyes wide as he takes in the cloak and the face which is raised to him. “Like Lucina?”

“I think so,” Robin says. Turning to the boy, she asks, “Did you come from the future with Lucina?”

Her son squints at her, looking perplexed. “What? Did you just ask me if I came from the future?” Robin and Lon’qu both stare at him. “Why are you looking at me like that? Are you sure you’re all right, Mother?”

“What’s your name, boy?” Lon’qu asks, putting a hand on Robin’s shoulder. It helps stabilize her, ground her.

“Morgan,” he responds, and for a moment he looks uncertain. His eyebrows furrow, and he touches his forehead. “Are you… my father? Why can’t… I remember?”

“You don’t know?” Robin asks, and a chill rushes down her spine.

Morgan frowns and turns back to her. “I… can’t remember. All I remember is you, Mother. Ngh,” he grunts, and squeezes his eyes shut. “Why can’t I remember?” His voice is growing desperate.

“Don’t stress about it,” Robin soothes. “Maybe you hit your head…” _Or maybe it runs in our genes_ , she thinks. Tears fill her eyes, and she hugs him again. His arms wrap around her and grip tight. Maybe it’s for the best that he can’t remember, if the stories Lucina has been sharing of their terrible future have any impact. 

Robin senses danger again, and her eyes pop open. Almost in the same instant, Morgan spins away from her, a magic tome coming out of his cloak. He strikes at the Assassin coming for them with magic, and one of Lon’qu’s tufted arrows finds its way into the man’s neck a second later. Their attacker falls to the ground.

Morgan tucks the tome away, and then turns to her with a smile, eager for some sort of praise. _Does he have my foresight?_ she wonders, as she forces a smile for his sake. _How did he know that man was approaching?_

There is no time for such questions. Robin forces herself to pay attention to the battle around her. She can deal with the shock and the consequences of Morgan’s appearance later, when they are all safe. With a confidence that she barely feels any longer, she directs her son and husband, and the two Dark Mages nearby, back toward the main company of Shepherds.

As she moves, she feels Morgan’s eyes on her; watching, absorbing. Robin wonders what he knows of her tactics – if he’s got her foresight, what else did she train him in? Maybe some hints lie trapped in his mind that can help her guide their course, and save them from Lucina’s terrible future.

Hopefully, she prays Lucina is right – the future can be changed.

When they are safely with the others, Robin breathes easier. Lon’qu is still casting sideways glances at Morgan, but he is mostly focused on the battle. Morgan stays close to Robin’s other side.

“Morgan?” A female voice cries from their left. “Morgan!”

The normally calm and reserved Lucina is running across the field, Falchion still in hand. She stops before Morgan, her eyes filling with tears, and throws her arms around him, still gripping Falchion. Morgan’s eyebrows are furrowed, and he gingerly holds the taller young woman. “Morgan! You were dead!” Lucina is crying freely now, and hanging on to him.

Robin feels ill, almost like she’s going to be sick, right there on the battlefield.

“Do I know you?” Morgan asks of Lucina.

The princess sniffs and pulls away, her eyes wide. “You don’t… remember?”

He scrubs at his forehead, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, I don’t… who are you?”

Lucina backs up, swiping at her eyes. “Morgan… I-” She looks at Robin and her face crumbles.

“Lucina, what’s wrong?” Robin asks her.

Lucina grits her jaw, grabs Morgan’s hood, and flips it back. The heavy fabric ruffles his hair. Morgan ducks as a heavy raindrop falls into his eye, and then freezes as he meets Robin’s gaze.

Robin’s eye is drawn to his hair… she was hoping it would be black, dark, like Lon’qu’s.

Morgan has blue hair, just a fraction of a shade darker than Lucina’s. And he doesn’t remember his father.

He doesn’t remember Chrom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh… Morgan! (gods I love this kid) *throws birbs a cookie for guessing it first*. I’m sure it wasn’t that hard to see this one coming… but there’s more to Lucina and Morgan’s story. :D 
> 
> I’d like to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Work got insanely busy, and my hubby was sick so it’s been the week of hell… hopefully the next chapter will be out the first week of November!
> 
> And this chapter makes over 100k words I’ve posted for FE fanfic in 3 months. (It's fitting that my first posted fic is also the one that drags me over the line to 100k...) I also hit a major milestone this week – 1,000 Kudos across all my fanfics! Thank you so much to all of my readers… you guys mean so much to me! *heart*
> 
> I got a commission from tiuanarui after I posted my last chapter, so I wanted to share the link to this amazing artwork with you guys! http://tiuanarui.tumblr.com/post/130575777900
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone for reading. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	17. Forgotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I haven’t done a very good job at showing the overall passage of time through this fic. After putting some thought into the timelines and actually looking at a map, I’ve determined that it has been about five weeks since the first time Robin had sex with Chrom. Robin did have sex with both Lon’qu and Chrom in the proper timeframe for her to *potentially* be pregnant, and she did have sex with both of them “off-screen” during that timeframe. I’m sorry for the confusion this might cause… I guess this is what happens when I don’t have the whole story written out yet.

Chapter 16: Forgotten

Lon’qu’s mind goes painfully blank when Lucina reveals Morgan’s blue hair. He thinks that he’s seeing things, a reflection of the light, but when he moves closer that color remains true, mocking him. There’s no one else that could have fathered him, with that color, and Robin’s hair white as the snows of Ferox. Numb, he looks at Robin, hoping for an explanation, something to make this all go away. Her eyes dart to his, and there is a tightening around her eyes. Robin swallows and looks down.

His stomach hurts and his body burns, flushing his face, so heavy he almost feels ill from it. He can’t look at her any longer, can’t _stand_ that apologetic, pained look on her face, so he turns to the sodden battlefield. He’s looking for something to kill but there isn’t anyone in the vicinity. Lon’qu does spot Chrom, though – which makes his body burn hotter, brighter. His hands are clenched into fists, tight around his bow.

It is Morgan who snaps them all back into reality.

“Come on, Mother, the battle’s not over yet,” he says, gently shaking Robin. Morgan gives Lon’qu and Lucina unreadable looks (with Robin’s eyes), and turns Robin toward the battle. He leans close to her and says something, and after a moment she nods.

Lon’qu shakes himself when they start walking away. He’s right, the battle is not over yet – as shocked and hurt as Lon’qu is feeling, there are still enemy soldiers afoot. The conversation they need to have can wait until they are safely inside the city’s walls, and out of this heavy rain.

Lucina stares after Morgan and Robin with a heavy expression, her eyes not really watching them. Chrom’s daughter looks defeated, and in spite of her being a woman, Lon’qu cannot leave her standing here alone like that - shoulders slumped and Falchion sagging in her hand.

“Lucina?” He moves a step closer. She jolts, her bright blue eyes wide and filled with tears. “You should go back to your father,” he says.

She blinks, raising Falchion with confusion, as if she doesn’t remember drawing it. She sheathes the blade and then closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, she’s tucked all that pain back inside of her. It reminds him of Robin, oddly, and a terrible thought strikes him.

Spontaneously, even though Lucina’s presence makes him feel even more like he is going to throw up, he asks, “Are Robin and I even married in your future?”

Lucina swallows. “No.”

Lon’qu doesn’t expect it to hurt as much as it does. He actually looks down, certain that someone is digging a knife into his chest, but he is injury-free.

“I’m sorry,” Lucina says, and then runs off before he can even ask what she is apologizing for. Is she sorry for telling him, or for something else?

He raises his bow and stalks over to Robin and Morgan. He hangs back behind them, standing guard as the enemy is defeated.

Morgan looks at Robin like she is his world, and she reacts through a fog of confusion. There is no doubt in his mind that Morgan is Robin’s son. He acts so much like her, that near-boundless enthusiasm and determination he fell in love with, in spite of himself.

Lon’qu shoves the thoughts away and focuses. He cannot allow himself these distractions right now. Every time a painful thought arises he shoves it back into the depths. It helps that Robin and Morgan don’t look at him or otherwise acknowledge him, at least until the battle is over.

When the last of the Valmese surrender to Frederick and Chrom, and they are taken away, Lon’qu slips away from everyone. He is not ready to hear any part of the story, the story that sits behind Lucina’s tragic eyes, the story locked inside Morgan’s memory-less brain.

With a bitter laugh, he wonders if his own imagination could be any worse than the truth… or if his predictions are the truth.

He goes outside the salt-blasted wall, back through the large doors that open to the docks. In solitude, he can finally think without distraction. While soldiers move to and from their fleet in small boats, Lon’qu walks away from the wall, out onto the muddy beach. The wet sand squelches beneath his boots but he keeps on walking.

Lon’qu recalls the way he felt when he got down on one knee in front of Robin, the trembling fear and elation at the thought that she had gotten under his skin and into his heart. He had known then, deep within, that he was going to love her forever, whether or not she actually reciprocated.

Robin had gotten through all his defenses, in spite of the way he pushed away every woman who came close to him.

And now, even when a bastard child is _flaunted_ right under his nose, part of him still wants to go to Robin and comfort her. Even after Robin’s affair, even if she takes up with Chrom again… there’s a part of his heart, his soul, that she holds, and it will always stay with her. She showed him how to love again, after… It is hard to even think her name, but he forces it from his lips anyway.

“ _Ke’ri_.”

Hot tears build up in his eyes. He thinks that Ke'ri would have liked Robin, had they ever met. He thinks about her shy, sweet face for a moment. So many years later, some details have gone fuzzy, but he remembers her beautiful almond-shaped eyes, and how her face would crinkle around them when she smiled.

He also remembers the way they stared up at him, unseeing, when he failed her. He had vowed, that day that he knelt before Robin and she said yes, that he would not let the same thing happen to Robin. With figs and silly antics, she had shown him that he could love again, that he could actually move on from Ke’ri’s death.

Lon'qu looks up at the cloudy gray sky, the smell of rain and the stink of the ocean surrounding him. The rain is turning more gentle, as if now that the Ylisseans and Feroxi have landed, it is giving up. Robin likes the rain like this, soft and warm. She’d told him once that it reminds her of childhood, and joy, and those things she can’t really remember.

Suddenly he _hates_ that he knows this about her. He kicks at a rock on the ground and it darts around for a second, skimming across the wet sand.

How had they not gotten married, in Lucina’s future? It drives him a little crazy thinking about it. Had he even proposed? What had changed, that Robin would choose not to be with him?

The only thing he can think of… is Chrom. She must have chosen Chrom over him, if Morgan was Chrom’s son.

He thinks about the most likely scenario – that Robin had been Chrom’s mistress for years in Lucina’s future. That she never accepted Lon’qu’s ring, that she had pined away for Chrom, never marrying him, and that he had given her a child out of wedlock. That child was Morgan – and, knowing Chrom, he’d probably raised him as a true-born child. That would explain why Lucina knew him, at least.

Lon’qu knows that if Robin had turned him down, he would never have let another woman get close. It would have made his fear of women even worse.

A rough wind, and the sound of great wings, disturbs him, and he looks up to see a Pegasus and rider circling above – Ylissean, by the colors on the saddle and ornamentation. He stops as the pegasus lands on the gritty sand, noting the rider’s scarlet hair.

“I thought it was you out here,” Cordelia calls to him, and dismounts. “What’s the matter? You look particularly unhappy today.”

He sighs and slumps. Ever since talking with Basilio about the affair, he’d felt less stressed about it. Basilio had been able to steer him in the right direction, helped guide his thoughts without forcing a decision either way. It had been a relief to let out his frustrations, and to have a sympathetic ear. He looks at Cordelia, who pats her pegasus on the snout when it bumps her. She has been nothing but courteous, even when he is gruff with her. He trusts her on the battlefield... and maybe that is good enough.

“Robin’s son showed up during battle today,” he says, his voice harsh.

“Oh,” Cordelia responds, confused at first. A small smile appears on her face at the thought. “That’s great, isn’t it? You two have a child who came from the future, like Lucina?”

“He’s not mine,” he admits.

Cordelia blinks. “What?”

“Robin’s son, Morgan…” He doesn’t want to say it aloud, suddenly – because if he admits it then it must be true. His fists are clenched tight and the lessening rain still falls around him, drizzling through his hair and seeping down his back. But it is only a matter of time before everyone sees it, and he wants to control when someone – anyone – finds out. He draws a deep breath.

“He’s got Chrom’s blue hair.”

Lon’qu closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again, Cordelia’s mouth is pressed in a firm line. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a step toward him, hand coming up from her side.

She’s standing a little closer than he would normally allow, but he’s grown more comfortable with her presence over time. She puts a hand on his arm, and he turns his body. He doesn’t step back, though. She knows some of his fear, even if she doesn’t know the root cause, and she lets her hand fall back down.

“I’m so sorry, Lon’qu,” she says, staring at him, and there’s something agitated growing in her bright eyes now. “I know it’s none of my business, but is she… sleeping with him?”

“She was,” he says, and only after the words slip from his mouth does he realize what he just said aloud. He just told Sumia’s best friend that Chrom was cheating on her.

“I knew it,” she mutters, quietly enough that Lon’qu can barely hear her.

Suddenly he wishes he hadn’t said anything. He let Cordelia get too close, and now she looks… really upset.

“Well, that’s what I suspected, anyway,” he quickly backpedals, lying – probably badly – through his teeth. “I don’t know for certain. Maybe… something changed in the future that Morgan came from,” he stumbles over his words. “Lucina said that Robin and I weren’t married, in her future, so it’s possible that things are very different now than they were there.”

“Well, yes,” Cordelia says, but there is a look in her eye he doesn’t much like.

“Cordelia,” he says her name, and she stares at him, startled. “I – please, don’t mention this to anyone else.”

“If that’s what you want, then I will keep it a secret,” she says, nodding firmly.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Are you headed inside? I can give you a ride, if you’d like.” She glances around and he finally realizes how far he’s walked away from the safety of the wall and the city. He should probably head back; Robin is probably looking for him by now. His stomach tightens at the thought.

He doesn’t realize until later that he took Cordelia’s bare hand to mount up, without flinching.

~*~

“We have a… situation,” Frederick says, and Chrom turns toward the knight. He raises a hand to shield his eyes from the rain.

Frederick’s lips are pressed into a tight line and his body language screams urgency.

“Is Robin okay?” The first words out of Chrom’s mouth burn his ears, and he is just glad that Frederick has come around to understand his brief affair. As it is, the knight’s eyebrows come together for an instant in silent condemnation, and then relax.

“Yes, Robin is fine. One of Lucina’s companions has appeared.”

“From the future?” Chrom asks, and looks around for Lucina. He doesn’t see her.

“Yes, it is another one of the children,” Frederick says. “His appearance has upset a few people.”

“Really? Why?”

“You’d better come and see for yourself.” Frederick sounds distressed, and Chrom follows him from the courtyard. Chrom wonders who it could be. Is it is his second child, by Sumia? Could it be the child of a couple that hasn’t gotten together yet? What secrets about the future could this boy share?

They walk together, Frederick’s armor clanking. Chrom feels aches and pains from this battle - his left shoulder beneath the guard is sore from a full-force strike from a lance. The guar was wrenched backward with the force of the blow - it likely saved his life, or at least saved him from getting skewered by that lance. His left thigh has a shallow slice, which Maribelle already healed - but the sword had dug in through the muscle a bit and it is tender as well.

Chrom’s army moves around them, setting up camp on the commons, disembarking goods from the warships. Flavia and Basilio are coordinating with the local Chon’sin leadership to restore order to the port town - there was understandable chaos when the invasion fleet was sighted, and even more when their defenses were breached.

Chrom and Frederick enter the inn where most of the Shepherds are staying – the building was mostly empty, since most travelers had heard about the Ylisseans, and the innkeeper seemed glad to be rid of Valmese control. Chrom is hopeful that the city will be a solid base of operations.

Frederick opens a door upstairs and gestures Chrom inside. He sweeps into the large room, his eyes landing on Robin first.

She sits quietly on the bench at the table, beside a smaller figure wearing her cloak. Chrom studies him for a moment, but he’s resting his head on Robin’s shoulder, and his eyes are closed.

Lon’qu stands near the window to Robin’s left, anger lining his spine and turning his knuckles white at his side. He doesn’t look up when Chrom enters.

Lucina moves to his side. “Father,” she says, looking serious as always. Her fingers are touching Falchion’s hilt lightly, and her eyes look puffy.

“What is all this?” he asks.

The boy leaning against Robin looks up, and Chrom realizes this is what Frederick meant. Robin is comforting this child from the future, letting him wear her cloak. And then Chrom realizes that Robin is wearing her own cloak. He couldn’t see it at first, hidden behind the table. As impossible as it might seem, this boy is wearing another, remarkably similar garment. A chill runs down his spine.

“I thought you said he was from the future,” he says to Frederick, who stands at ease in his heavy armor.

Frederick nods. “He is.”

Chrom looks at Lucina, but can’t read her expression behind those down-turned blue eyes. She is restless, her hand gliding up and down the hilt at her side, nails tracing the ridges.

Robin speaks, with a sideways glance at Lon’qu, who is glaring at the floor. “Chrom, this is Morgan. He saved my life back in the battle… and he’s my son. _Your_ son.” She says the last softly, and Lon’qu shifts, crossing his arms.

“I have… a son? _We_ have a son?” Chrom stares in shock at the boy, but sees only Robin in his soft features. The tactician reaches up and runs her hand along Morgan’s hair, and then he smiles at her. Chrom sees his own smile on the boy’s face, as identical as a reflection in the mirror. It startles him, this curious blend of Robin and himself. In the next instant, he feels a swelling of emotion in his chest, similar to what he feels sometimes when he looks at Lucina. He’s proud of this boy, and amazed at his existence.

Morgan stares calmly back at Chrom, and the prince is concerned that he hasn’t shown any spark of recognition. Lucina had cried in Chrom’s arms when she revealed herself as his daughter. What happened in their future, that Morgan doesn’t recognize his own father? He looks to be a few years younger than Lucina, but not by much. If Lucina has her own timeline straight, Morgan should remember Chrom – unless something bad happened in the future.

“So, you’re my father?” Morgan asks.

“It appears so,” Chrom responds, and then looks to Lucina. “What happened?”

Lucina draws in a breath. Her eyes are already filling up with tears, and Chrom senses this is going to be a long explanation. He moves to take the seat on Robin’s other side, his thigh brushing hers through the clothing. It starts as an unconscious choice, but as he settles in beside her, he realizes he’s putting himself between Robin and Lon’qu. Despite their recent conversation, he doesn’t trust the Assassin, not with how agitated he is acting.

“In my future,” Lucina begins, and there is something of an apology in her eyes now. “Morgan is my brother, and Robin, our mother. She married you and became queen.”

It takes a second for that to sink in. Robin… married  _him_ , and not Lon’qu, in the future. His chest feels light. 

Lon’qu breathes in sharply through his nose, and Chrom looks up. But the dark-haired man merely stretches his shoulders and glances past Chrom, at Robin. She doesn’t notice his stare, for all her attention is on Lucina.

In the pause, Robin nods, as if it is all making sense. “You’re... my daughter.”

There is something raw in Lucina’s eyes as she looks at Robin. “Yes. In my time, you raised me.”

“But… you should have told us sooner!” Chrom’s mind leaps backwards, finally realizing that Lucina’s awkwardness with Sumia had been because she was not her mother. To know that your parents had married other people - Chrom can’t imagine how that must feel. “You said you were eleven when I died. You knew Robin, not Sumia. Why did you let me introduce you as Sumia’s child?”

Lucina raises her shoulders and stands a little taller. “Because I didn’t want to upset anyone. I didn’t know that Morgan… well, that any of the other children had made the journey with me.” Lucina rushes through the end of that sentence, and Chrom has a funny feeling it was not what she meant to say. He realizes that she would have kept her true mother a secret forever, if Morgan hadn’t shown up.

Robin’s brows come together and she twists her mouth, possibly thinking the same thought.

Lucina continues, “I was eleven, and Morgan eight, when Father died.” The young woman crosses the room and crouches before Robin to take her hand on her lap. Robin’s arm shifts, and for a moment it looks like she wants to withdraw her hand, but then she clasps Lucina’s tight.

The princess speaks to Robin now, not glancing at Morgan or Chrom as she explains. “But you came back with Frederick and Lissa, and a few of the others, after his death. I never found out exactly what happened there, how he died. No one wanted to share the details with an eleven-year-old princess, barely even old enough to bear her father’s sword.” She brushes the hilt at her side with her fingers. “And you were all… preoccupied, understandably.”

Chrom hangs on Lucina’s every word, still trying to figure out if Lucina’s past and their future intersect at all now. There may be be too many changes, too many variables, to even predict the future.

But Lucina doesn’t know that it was, in all likelihood, Robin who killed Chrom. She couldn’t know, or she wouldn’t be so calm about this.

“You and Aunt Lissa tried to rule in my stead, until I was old enough to take the throne. But it quickly became apparent that Father’s death had done something to you, had… changed you. You weren’t all there after his death.”

Chrom takes Robin's other hand, the one that Lucina isn't holding, and watches Robin carefully. He sees the tears glistening in her eyes as she imagines the terrible fate. He’s worried for a moment that she might have one of her episodes, but the moment passes, and aside from the trembling she seems to be all right.

“Little more than a year after Father’s death, you left Ylisstol… and took Morgan with you. Frederick and the Shepherds went looking for you, but the Risen were growing in number and strength, and the Shepherds dwindled away until none were left.”

Lucina closes her eyes and stands, pacing across the floor with her hand firmly gripping her sword. “I took up Father’s place when I turned fourteen, and we fought against the Risen for almost a year - me, and the others around my age, who had parents among the Shepherds. And then… Grima showed up.” She shakes her head, her hair gliding over her shoulders.

“I’ve told you what happened then, of course… but I didn’t tell you that when we went to the Outrealm Gate, Morgan was waiting for me.”

Morgan sits up straighter and makes a little noise.

Lucina doesn’t look at him as she says, “Morgan fought against us, trying to keep us from leaving. There was a… shadow over him. A darkness. I know he would never do it unless he was forced, but Morgan… you attacked us.” Tears slip from her eyes and her voice grows ragged. Morgan stares back at Lucina, and then rises.

“I see,” he says, his face pale. “You tried to kill me, didn’t you?”

He touches her shoulder, softly, and she flinches away from him.

“I _did_ kill you. I put Falchion through your heart. You _died_. How did you survive, Morgan?”

He frowns, and his fingers dig at his temples. “I – ah! – I don’t remember!” he shakes his head, and presses harder. Robin goes to him and pulls his hands away, and he looks at her, distress all over his features. “All I remember is you, Mother,” he chokes out.

“It’s okay,” Robin says, holding his wrists tight. “Don’t force it. If your memories are meant to come back, they will come back.”

There is silence for a few moments then, as Morgan ducks his head, struggling to keep from crying.

Lucina moves to Morgan and slides her arm across his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Robin hugs both of them, hesitantly at first, and then they cling to her. Chrom sees Lucina’s hand gripping Robin’s cloak tight behind her back, and looks away.

He is reminded that for all that Lucina and Morgan seem like normal teenagers, they’d come from a world that was utterly destroyed. Even though Morgan cannot remember his world, his memories might come back, and who knows what he witnessed in the time he was gone with Robin.

Lon’qu shifts beside Chrom, and Chrom glances over. His anger appears to be fading away in the face of their pain, and for the first time, he meets Chrom’s eye. He glances away quickly, but the brief eye contact is enough to set Chrom at ease.

Robin murmurs against Morgan’s hair, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” she says, her voice low. “Both of you.” Chrom thinks she would make a fine mother, if this is her reaction to two young adults that she didn’t raise - not directly, anyway.

Chrom glances at Frederick, who is standing in the corner of the room, almost forgotten. Frederick looks particularly solemn, but when he meets Chrom’s gaze, he gives a little gesture toward the trio.The intent is clear, and Chrom rises.

He feels a little overcome with emotion, himself, as he moves to touch Robin’s back. She turns a little beneath his hand, and gives him a weak smile as permission. He slides an arm around Robin’s trembling body, one hand on Morgan’s shoulder, and the other hand on Lucina’s. He presses his cheek against Robin’s hair, gently inhaling her soft scent.

Chrom wonders what _this_ family was like, before his death, before everything that happened to Morgan and Lucina. He can easily imagine teaching Lucina and Morgan how to hold Falchion, how to fight and protect each other - except, they hadn’t been able to. For whatever reason, they had been turned against each other.

That perfect future calls to him, even as he knows it was never meant to be. All he has now is the hope that he can fix whatever future they are rushing toward. Tears build up in his eyes, both for what was lost and for what his children had to deal with.

“Robin, what are we going to do?” Lon’qu asks, startling all of them with his voice. Chrom’s eyes fly open and he removes his cheek from Robin’s hair, then steps back.

Robin reluctantly turns to Lon’qu, releasing Morgan and Lucina. Just like that, everything else comes crashing down around them. Robin isn’t his wife, and these aren’t his children. They have his genetics, but he wasn’t the one that raised them.

“‘Do’? About…?” Robin’s nose crinkles slightly.

Lon’qu holds a hand up. “The fact that both Morgan and Lucina are…” He doesn’t seem willing to say it aloud, so instead he continues, “Everyone will know when they see his hair.”

It will be immediately obvious to anyone who looks at Morgan, who his father is. This blue hair is a mark of their noble ancestry, along with the exalted brand that he and Lucina share. Offhandedly, Chrom wonders if Morgan has it, as well.

Robin sighs heavily, and looks to Chrom. “I’m sorry, Chrom… there’s no way to hide this.”

He nods. “I know.”

“We’ll have to tell the Shepherds, as soon as we can.”

“Tonight, then? We can gather them up after dinner is served.”

“Yes, that will work,” Robin says, after a quick glance at Frederick.

Lon’qu bobs his head once and then starts walking for the door.

“Where are you going?” Robin asks.

He gives her a look, and something passes between them unspoken. Chrom watches as Lon’qu turns toward her, and she wraps her arms around his torso. “I love you,” she whispers, her cheek pressed against Lon’qu’s resisting body.

He relaxes into her embrace, and responds, “I love you too.” His hand goes to the back of her neck for a moment, an intimate movement with his thumb on her cheek. Chrom’s blood boils in his veins, and he looks away.

After Lon’qu leaves, an awkward silence descends on the room. It appears that no one wants to be the first to speak.

Robin takes a seat on the bench again, her back rigid. She covers her face with her hands, taking a moment to collect herself.

Chrom shifts his weight, aware of the floorboards creaking under his left foot. He is starting to feel tired as the excitement of Lucina’s explanation has worn off - the battle earlier had been rough, even though they had won with minimal casualties. The heightened sense of awareness he gets in the middle of fighting is physically exhausting.

Chrom is still muddying through the new knowledge, and he knows he will have questions later. Some parts aren’t making sense, but he’d rather take the time and talk through it with Robin. After a moment, he moves to the bench and sits beside Robin.

Morgan breaks the silence with a pointed yawn.

Lucina asks her brother, “Do you have a room yet?”

He looks at her for a moment, then shrugs.

“He’s staying downstairs,” Robin tells her.

Frederick interjects, “I can show you his room, if you’d like.”

Lucina nods, and then looks back at her parents. “Is that alright?”

Chrom senses a reluctance on Lucina’s part - she wants to go with her brother, but she also doesn’t want to leave her parents. “Yes, of course. Go ahead.”

Frederick holds the door open for the two blue-haired teenagers, and closes it behind himself.

The silence now holds some weight to it.

Chrom suddenly realizes that he and Robin are alone together, for the first time in almost a week. His heart is beating frantically against his ribcage.

Robin’s eyes are wide as she looks at him. She’s just realized it, too. “Chrom,” she whispers, and he leans a little closer.

“Robin,” he responds, steadying his breathing. She smiles, and it is a hint of the smile she used to give him, before all of this. His head is feeling a little light, and he finds himself smiling back. Her lips curl up in response.

Chrom touches her hand and she doesn’t move away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some (sort of) bad news for this fic - I’m not going to post another chapter of this story until December at this point. For some reason this story just derailed me this month… I’m doing Nanowrimo and I’m trying to balance fanfics with my original fiction, and this story in particular just gave me a ton of grief. I am still planning on continuing it, but not until December. I’ll post an estimate date in my profile toward the end of November. You folks have all been super supportive of me with this, my longest Fire Emblem fic, and I feel like I'm letting you down, but I am stressed out over this and something has to give. I hope you understand!
> 
> A note about Cordelia - I know it might seem like there’s something going on between her and Lon’qu, but I really want to emphasize that Lon’qu won’t be cheating on Robin with Cordelia. What I was trying to show is their awkwardness as friends.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and as usual thanks for reading!


	18. What the Future Holds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary of the last chapter (because it's been a while): After the battle where blue-haired Morgan surfaced, Lon’qu goes for a walk to clear his head, and tells Cordelia about Morgan. Later that evening, Lucina explains that Robin married Chrom in her timeline, and that Lucina was forced to kill Morgan to come back in time. Eventually, Robin and Chrom are the only two left in the room.

Chapter 17: What the Future Holds

Robin looks at Chrom’s hand on hers, the smile creeping into his eyes. It would be so easy to just give in to her desires, to the offer that is always present between them… but she won’t. Not now, not with things between herself and Lon’qu nearly patched up - and not with Chrom’s death looming over her.

Instead, she leans to the side and rests her head on his shoulder. He freezes – she can feel his muscles tense beneath her cheek. She wraps one hand around his bare bicep, enjoying the warmth from his skin, his distinctive scent.

“Robin?” he says, surprised. She loves hearing him speak her name.

“Shh,” she whispers. “I need a minute.”

“Alright,” he says. “Take whatever time you need.”

Robin curls up against him, bringing her feet up underneath her on the hard bench. His hand comes up to twine in her hair, and she lets him.

He’s always so giving. At least with her. He gave her space when she turned him down, he gave her love when she returned to him… and what has she given him in return?

Heartache… A daughter who was forced to kill their son. She’s given him too little, too late, perhaps. And she might bring him death.

She sits up and swipes at the tears building in her eyes. She doesn’t deserve that love.

The room is large, but Robin still feels the walls closing in on the two of them.

“We shouldn’t linger here alone,” she says, and stands, hating that her voice sounds nasal and raw.

“Robin, wait,” he says, and catches her wrist. Chrom stands and draws her to him. Robin rests her wet cheek against his chest, and stands in the safety and comfort of his arms. That thin chain between them, holding them together, keeps her there, when every thought in her head is telling her she should go. She brings nothing good to him, and now she doubts if she’s even saved his life, after hearing what transpired with their children.

“I would have made a mess of everything, marrying you,” she whispers, a shudder running down her spine. “Do you still wish I’d agreed to it?”

He sighs, a hand smoothing down her hair. “Yes.” His voice rumbles soothingly in her skull. “You can’t tell if Lucina’s presence here, the things she changed, wouldn’t have been ripples in the water, altering the future forever.”

“And you’re willing to take that risk, knowing what you know now?” She draws back, and his confused blue eyes stare into her. She loves him, but his trust in her might be his downfall. “Two years ago… Lucina came to me and told me that you were going to die if I married you. I didn’t know who she was at the time, but she had just saved you and your sister from those assassins. She _knew_ I’d seen you dying in my dreams, but not that I was the one that killed you. I believed her when she told me that the dreams would come true.”

Robin pauses, but Chrom seems to have lost his voice. His mouth opens and closes, unsure of what to say.

She continues, “I may still kill you. You know what happened with Emmeryn.” She hates to bring up his sister, knowing how much her death still bothers him, but she must. “Lucina’s actions saved her from that assassination, but in the end… she is still dead.”

Chrom draws in a breath, his eyes narrowing. “What was it Lucina said… The river of time always favors its original course.”

“Exactly. We may never be able to alter it enough to save you.”

To her relief, he doesn’t immediately respond. He cocks his head and thinks about it for a few moments. Robin paces along the worn hardwoods, biting at a fingernail as he contemplates.

“You changed the future,” he says after a time. He reaches out and gently holds her arm, stopping the pacing. “You _changed_ it substantially, just as Lucina did returning here and saving Emmeryn – saving me. Lucina was eleven when I died. In this timeline, she is barely two. We have plenty of time to fix this.”

“To fix what, exactly? To fix our relationship? To fix Morgan and Lucina’s lives? To fix… everything?” She pushes away and covers her eyes with a hand, a desperate laugh on the tip of her tongue.

“To fix our future. So you don’t kill me… so _this_ Morgan and Lucina…” He points down to the floor, to the inn beneath them, where Lucina is helping Morgan get situated in his room. “…can remain in a time where both their parents are alive, and Grima does not awaken.”

He sounds so certain, as he usually does. Robin shakes her head, dropping her hand to her neck and rubbing at it. She can’t believe in herself, not with Lucina’s explanation of what happened still fresh in her mind.

“How long have you been wearing that feather?” He gives her bracelet a gentle tug, and she turns her arm to look at it. The dark magic around her wrist has been with her constantly, and she forgets it is there, sometimes. Her chest isn’t as tight, looking at the dark rainbow feather idly twisting against her forearm.

“Maybe a week.”

“You said yourself it would take some time before you know if it actually works. But it has been a week, and you haven’t had the dreams since then, right?”

She nods and runs her finger down the soft feather. Her doubts linger, because she has to be certain. But Chrom is right. “I haven’t had those dreams since I started wearing it.” “That’s good.” Chrom grips her hands, and she glances up. His eyes are as warm as his skin.

“Thank you,” she says, after a moment. Her breath catches in her chest.

“Robin,” he speaks her name tenderly after a few moments. “I’ve missed you.”

She pulls her hands out of his. “Chrom, you know we can’t-”

“Wait. Please listen to me. I mean, I miss you as a friend. A companion. I love you, and I don’t think that will change – but I also want to respect what you have with Lon’qu – what I have with Sumia. We promised ourselves to other people, and maybe that was a mistake… or maybe it was for the better.” He lets out a sigh. “Our children suffered because of us being together. We suffered, too. Maybe this is a second chance, to give them a better future.”

His words sink into her, and she thinks for a moment of the baby that is probably growing inside of her. The thought of bringing a child into this world _hurts_. Bad enough her grown children have come back with these tales.

But a part of her hopes for what Chrom offers. If she is pregnant, whether it be Chrom’s or Lon’qu’s – if it is Morgan, or if it is another child – then maybe she can bring it a better future. One where Chrom lives, and she doesn’t lose a piece of her sanity. They have knowledge, and foresight, of a sort. A path opens before them, one with many forks along the way, but she already knows that some of the many splits lead to his death. Maybe… some of the forked paths don’t, any longer.

“Chrom…” She smiles, and takes his hand again, even though she feels like crying. “I’ve missed it too.”

“Can we go back to being friends?”

She nods, keeping her eyes down on the crossed leather belts at his chest. She can’t trust what might come out, what she might say or do, if she looks at him in that instant.

“Good,” he says, and then suggests, “We should… talk about what we’re going to tell everyone.” A welcome change of subject – although this new topic is painful in other ways. “Do you have a strategy?”

She smiles at the question. Of course she does – as soon as she got over the shock of seeing Morgan’s hair, she started thinking about it. “I want to keep it as simple as possible. We mention nothing about what is – or was – between us. We stay calm and rational, just the bare bones facts that we know right now. I hope they will be surprised enough that they won’t ask questions.”

“Good.” Chrom agrees, as always – he usually goes along with her decisions unless something feels off. “I will let you take the lead.”

She turns to the door, and he does not stop her this time. Robin pauses, her hand around the doorknob. “Chrom… are you coming? We need to speak with Basilio and Flavia about the city, and then we can discuss what we should say about Morgan in more detail.”

He moves swiftly to her side, and she catches his smile in a sidelong glance. “Yes. I’m with you.”

For the first time in weeks, that thought does not make her feel guilty.

~*~

Morgan is a ghost in his own skin, a passenger in his own body. On that battlefield earlier, he found himself reacting to the threats before he was even aware of them. His memories are a great blank slate, empty and void and waiting, and then his mother shows up, and brings the colors back with her. He has a funny feeling, a sickness in the pit of his stomach, that his memories of his mother are incomplete, somehow… but they are all he has.

When he saw her nearly get hurt on the battlefield, his body reacted before his mind had fully registered it. He shoved her out of the way of that blade and leapt in to defend her, to the death, if necessary. He loves her… and yet there’s something off between them. Something more than the fact that she hasn’t given birth to him.

The room he’s been assigned is warm – a fire crackles in the hearth, keeping the damp chill from seeping inside. It is the first time in a long time he’s been indoors, rather than out in the elements with just a tent as protection. He runs his hand over the quilted bedspread, feeling the threads against his calloused fingers.

That first night he awoke on the ground, he was disoriented, but he learned quickly how to survive. He’s been in the town for about a month, scavenging, scrounging, going to sleep hungry some nights. He worked with bandits at first, but they tended to cheat him out of payments, so he made do in other ways.

“Is everything alright, Morgan?” Lucina shifts at the foot of the bed, and he turns back to look at her, and Frederick. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

They both look at him with the same expression, and he forces a smile. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Lucina frowns, her eyebrows creasing. Morgan tenses, his hands gripping the bedspread beside his legs. She’s about to say something more, to press him, to break his smile and force him to bare the turmoil within - but Frederick speaks first. “Dinner will be served downstairs in about an hour. I will come and get you. Lucina, I think we should let Morgan rest until then. I know this has been a draining day for all of us.”

Morgan looks at the knight gratefully, his hands smoothing down the fabric. “Thank you, I think I will rest for a while.”

Lucina breathes in and then exhales. “Fine. I will see you at dinner.” She turns to the door and exits without looking back. His sister’s response is cold and makes him cringe a bit – but he can’t deal with her expectations, not in this moment.

“Thank you,” he says to Frederick, who gives a little nod of his head.

The knight hesitates a moment, some internal conflict playing out across his face. Morgan can tell the instant he makes up his mind, for his face uncreases, the decision weighed and set. “I’ve seen that same look in your mother’s eye recently. I thought you needed some space, some time to process.”

Morgan is touched by this man’s kindness, and he can only smile at Frederick, for his throat is too tight for words to squeak out. Tears prick at his eyes. After a moment, Frederick moves to the door and closes it quietly behind him. Morgan is alone in his room.

He flops back across the bed, staring up at the wooden ceiling. The floorboards creak out in the hall, muffled through the door. Tears leak out of the corners of his eyes, leaving wet trails down his temples into his hair and ears. It is a relief to be safe and secure in an inn, to know that family is nearby. The tears flow a little harder, and then they slow.

Eventually, he rises. His body is warm, perhaps even feverish. He strips off the fingerless gloves and his cloak, and then spots the mirror on the dresser. It has a small crack in the upper corner, and it is a bit foggy, but it is still a mirror. He hasn’t had the opportunity to use a mirror in a long time. He’s surprised by his own wan face, the shine of unshed tears in his red eyes. His blue hair stands out bold, and he reaches up a hand to tug it away from his skin. He looks grim and determined, at least to his own eyes - a young man with too many scars, both emotional and real.

He raises his beige undershirt in the mirror, exposing his own chest. There, in the center of his chest, is a fierce-looking scar. The sword that gave him that wound must have broken his ribs and punctured his heart. It should have killed him – and yet, here he is.

Then his eyes dart to the two marks, one on the back of each hand. His parents’ marks – he’d seen the symbol on Chrom’s bicep earlier. They show him as his mother’s son, and also as Chrom’s. He’s memorized the symbols, and could recognize them anywhere… but he doesn’t know what they mean, what they stand for.

Morgan scowls at the scar and the marks in his reflection - the proof of Lucina’s tale.

“Why can’t I remember?” he asks his mirror self, but doesn’t get any answers. He studies himself for a few more moments, and then lets the shirt down.

When he lies down on the bed and falls asleep, he doesn’t dream. He’s grateful for that, at least. When Frederick knocks at the door, he is ready to face the others.

~*~

Lon’qu leans against the wall of the tavern on the ground floor of the inn. They can’t really call it a dining hall, not with the large, worn bar taking up most of the space. All of the Shepherds are crowded into the tavern, and it is noisy. Drinks are spread among the Shepherds, some partaking more than others. The wind blows through the poorly insulated windowsill, up his spine, creaking the glass behind him, but he doesn’t move from his spot.

He still can’t believe that Robin had married Chrom. What changed her mind, and their future? Why had she accepted his ring instead of Chrom’s? He’s almost afraid to ask, afraid that his anger will come rushing back. The look in Robin’s eye told him that she knew exactly what had changed. Was it simply that she saw Chrom’s death in a dream?

The only difference that Lon’qu knew of was Lucina. Back in Regna Ferox, disguised as Marth, Lucina had bested Lon’qu in battle. Lon’qu has come to terms with that blow to his self-confidence a long time ago, although it still rankles. Lucina had also warned them of the assassination attempt on Chrom and Emmeryn. Thought the Exalt still died in the end, Lucina changed the flow of her future. It is possible that Lucina changed something that caused Robin to push Chrom away and to go to Lon’qu instead. Had it been intentional? Would Lucina knowingly part her parents, and for what purpose?

He scowls at anyone who gets too close to him, communicating with glares and crossed arms that he does not want company or socialization. He’s not here for that. Across the hall, Cordelia gives him a look, but to his relief she doesn’t come over. She remains with Cherche and Donnel, and after a few moments she laughs at something that the young farmboy says, and turns her focus away.

Lon’qu would rather sulk here in silence and be left alone, than deal with anyone. And he gets his wish.

There’s silence in the tavern when Morgan is brought out and introduced. The poor boy looks pale, but he stands tall beside his mother. While Robin explains in a clear, soothing voice whose child he is, Morgan creeps closer to her, taking her hand and watching her face as if she’s the only person in the room that matters. He supposes that to Morgan, she is – he has no memories of his father, his sister. When Morgan does gaze out over the Shepherds, he almost looks through them – but his eyes focus on Lon’qu, a familiar face in the crowd.

Lon’qu wants to look away from those eyes, Robin’s eyes, but Morgan shifts his focus away first. The Feroxi exhales and presses his back against the windowsill, feeling the edges of the wood catch on his cloak.

_I want to hate him,_ he realizes, and grits his jaw tighter. Morgan unnerves him, and yet he sees so much of Robin in him. It is in the way he moves, the tilt of his head. Now that he’s over the shock, somewhat, he sees it even more. The boy’s presence mocks him, drives that hot knife of jealousy into his gut.

The Shepherds take the story in stride. With Lucina’s announcement, the others had been surprised and disbelieving, but with Morgan, they are much more accepting. Robin and Chrom stand a respectful distance away from each other, and even Lon’qu cannot see the affair muddying the air between them. He knows it’s there, though… it will always be there, coloring his perceptions of them both.

There are some sympathetic glances cast Lon’qu’s way for the no-doubt awkward situation. He ignores them all, especially the ones from Cordelia, even as his face feels hot at all the attention.

After the announcement, Robin disappears back upstairs, and Morgan hovers beside his sister. Chrom moves to speak with Vaike and Sully, and soon enough the room is filled with conversation again. Lon’qu exhales, relieved that it is over. The sooner the Shepherds acknowledge it, the sooner they can move on from it.

“Do you think other children from the future are going to show up?” Nowi asks Cherche nearby, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. She seems thrilled at the prospect of younger people to play with. Beside her, Cherche smiles, and starts to speak. Lon’qu loses her response to the rising noise of discussions, and decides he can leave now without drawing attention to himself.

He swings the door open and the chill evening air hits him, expelling him from the camaraderie of the Shepherds and back into his homeland. It is the smell, more than anything else, which reminds him of his life before Regna Ferox - before being swept up under Basilio’s wing, before going with Chrom as to prove Ferox’s dedication to Ylisse – before meeting Robin.

He draws in a deep breath, and leans back against the stone front of the inn. His hand rests on the leather grip of his blade. Chon’sin. The tide is low, and he smells spiced fish cooking nearby. He doesn’t miss it, not one bit. He has only bad memories from this country, and yet the scents bring him back to his youth.

Lon’qu will be relieved when they move further inland.

The door to the inn opens beside him, and Morgan walks out, clad in his mother’s cloak. Lon’qu freezes, conflicting emotions warring against each other within him. He hopes that Morgan doesn’t notice him out here, for he’s not certain what he will say.

And then he notices that Morgan’s hands are trembling. When Morgan draws in a gasped breath, and then another, Lon’qu realizes that he is having an episode, similar to his mother’s.

Instantly, his anger dissipates. “Morgan, it’s all right,” he says. He doesn’t approach or touch him. When Morgan turns to him, his eyes dark and hazy, Lon’qu doesn’t flinch, even though part of him wants to back away.

In a soothing voice, Lon’qu explains, “Your mother gets these every once in a while. Come here, sit against the wall. It’ll pass in a few moments.” He rises and pats the wall with a hand.

Morgan stumbles over to him and leans a shoulder against the wall, his fingers spread out against the stones, clinging to them. As he slides down to the cobblestones, Lon’qu crouches beside him. It is not yet cold enough for their breath to turn into fog, but Morgan’s breathing is rapidly increasing.

“Take slow breaths, in and out, that’s good. You’re okay.” Lon’qu demonstrates with exaggerated motions of his chest and hands. This is one thing he knows how to react to.

Morgan hangs his head and struggles to obey Lon’qu. He digs his fingers through his hair and his breathing slows. This close to the door, the voices of the Shepherds blend together into a fluctuating garble, rising and falling in natural cadence. But outside, it is calm, and the cool air seems to help.

After a few moments of silence, Morgan looks up at him. “Thanks,” he says. “No one’s ever tried to help me through one of these before… not that I can remember, at least.”

Lon’qu frowns, recalling that not twenty minutes ago he had felt such strong resentment towards the boy. It seems so petty, now, to have those feelings. This is Robin’s son – his _wife’s_ son. The least he can do is look after him.

He grunts, shrugging the gratitude aside. “Sometimes memories aren’t everything. They can hold you back.”

There’s something in Morgan’s dark eyes that makes Lon’qu want to explain himself – an empathy, almost, and a desire to understand. It takes him by surprise, but he exhales out a sigh, and the moment passes.

Lon’qu stands up and offers a hand to Morgan. “Come on, let’s get you to your room. Unless you’d like to stay out here in the cold?”

The boy looks at him for another second, and then puts his cold hand into Lon’qu’s. The smile that Morgan gives him as he pulls him to his feet warms his chest. Maybe… Lon’qu can still relate to Morgan, even though he’s not his.

The Shepherds part as Lon’qu glides through them, Morgan a pale shadow at his back. The sounds of celebration downstairs are faded to nothing by the time they get up to Morgan’s room, and the boy slips inside with a quick “thank you” and a smile.

Lon’qu doesn’t realize what he’s doing, until he’s standing before Robin’s door. It is quiet inside her room, but he knows she’s in there. She could be sleeping, or planning. His thoughts go sour almost immediately, and his hand closes into a fist at his side.

Lon’qu doesn’t recall seeing Chrom downstairs, but he hadn’t been looking. Does he want to know if the prince is in his wife’s room?

And then he realizes the door is ajar – he can see a faint glow from the right, which must be a banked fire in the fireplace. He reaches out and pushes the door open, holding his breath. Robin is slumped over at the table, sound asleep. Her head is pillowed on her arms. Chrom is nowhere to be found.

He reaches out and collects her body in his arms, balancing delicately. She stirs but doesn’t truly wake, and he lays her on the bed. He pulls off her boots and cloak, and tucks her into the blankets, then sits by her side for a time. He thinks about what Basilio told him, back on the ship… about how they need Robin to be steady. At the time, he made a decision… but he’s slept with her since then. And, he’d acknowledged that Robin loves both of them.

He leans down and kisses her brow, her hair tickling his nose… and then he starts to remove his boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK! There it is, the next chapter. I won’t be going that long between chapters for the next one… It took too long to get the story organized in my head again. Maybe 2 to 3 weeks? The plot will get going again in the next chapter... I needed to get deeper into the characters in this one.  
> My version of Morgan is not as happy-go-lucky as he seems in the game, although in a chapter or two his outlook will improve somewhat.  
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


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